A Twist of Fate
by hannahmarie1508
Summary: "Love is for fools." This is what Enjolras tells himself anyway, after Marius falls head over heels for Cosette. The only thing he cares about is revolution, that is until one strange night leaves him questioning his own principles and wondering if there is room for both love and freedom. Will his seemingly cold heart finally melt? Find out in a Twist of Fate. Enjolras/OC
1. Chapter 1

**Well hello people of the world! :P This is my first fanfic! I've had this idea in my head for a while now and after watching Les Mis for the second time yesterday I decided to finally act upon on it! This mostly will be associated with the movie because I haven't had the opportunity yet to finish reading the book! I wanted to try something different and any feedback is really appreciated and if you guys like it I will do my best to continue. Anyways thanks and I hope ya'll enjoy!**

** Disclaimer: I do not own Les Miserables, or the characters in it. (I wish I did :P) and all rights belong to Victor Hugo.**

To Enjolras the noise in the back room of the Café Musain was becoming nearly intolerable. He sat in a small corner towards the back trying to formulate his plans for what perhaps would be the most important thing he had ever done. The revolution of the people. The _revolution _was what he lived for, what he breathed for, what he was willing to risk his life for.

He scanned across the room at Courfeyrac and Joly, who appeared to be conversing excitedly with one another, at Combeferre who had his nose in a book, and at Grantaire, who as usual had a bottle in his hand and a glazed look in his eye. Their seemingly apparent forgetfulness and amusement irritated him. His gaze finally rested on Marius, who was sitting alone near the window, appearing to be daydreaming. Briefly, a flash of anger coursed through his body.

He knew without a doubt that he was daydreaming about _her_. The girl he had seen today, and who had so obviously captured his heart, and his mind. A mind that Enjolras needed to be focused on revolution, not some foolish romantic fantasy. Frustrated, he rested a hand on his forehead and stared down at the table, deep in thought. The next time he glanced up, he caught a glimpse of Marius with his "shadow" in tow, darting out the back way. He was most likely on his way to meet his new _amant_.

Another thing he could not understand was Marius's blindness to whom everyone referred to as his "shadow", the brunette gamine who followed him almost everywhere and who was so infatuated with him, that it was nearly sickening to watch. Everyone knew about her affection for him, even Enjolras knew. Everyone, except for Marius himself, knew. A small part of Enjolras felt pity for the girl and he thought perhaps in time her affections might turn else ware to someone who would reciprocate them in return. But that was where his thoughts about the matter ended. He did not know very much about love. Nor, did he wish to learn more.

He knew it was late and suddenly he felt very exhausted. The stress and frustrations of the day had taken its toll on the young leader and left him feeling weary. The others still appeared to be lively and slightly inebriated, among other things. Almost silently, he got to his feet and left a franc on the table next to an untouched mug of ale, before pulling on his red coat and slipping his wallet into the front pocket. He slipped past the others almost unnoticed, until he felt a strong hand clap his shoulder.

"Enjolras, where are you going?" He turned and saw that it was Grantaire who greeted him with a wide smile and glassy eyes, awaiting an answer.

"To bed. If I were you I would do the same thing. Our minds need to be clear and focused for when we meet again tomorrow night." He replied slowly to make his point, but soon saw that it was lost upon his companion.

"Stay a little longer. Lighten up a little and join us _mon ami_!" Grantaire laughed, but soon lost his smile when Enjolras shrugged his hand away and wordlessly left the room.

The night air was cool and almost refreshing to Enjolras as he stepped outside onto the street. He gazed up into the night sky and took a deep breath while he stared up at the stars. Feeling slightly calmer, he began his walk back to his small apartment.

It was noiseless outside compared to the loudness of the café. So quiet in fact, that his mind began to wander again back to Marius and what he had stated earlier that evening.

_ "If you had been there tonight, you might know how it feels."_

Once more agitated, Enjolras continued to walk faster. Marius was a fool. He shouldn't let such ridiculous things cloud his judgment, especially such a thing as love.

_ "You might know how it feels."_

Enjolras shook his head. He had never been in love. He needed no mistress when he had Patria. The one thing that had mattered to him was Patria. Even more so when his family had disowned him, Patria soon became the only thing that mattered.

He was so lost in thought and in agitation, that he barely noticed that someone was in front of him, until it was too late and whoever it was ran headfirst into his chest.

"Pardon monsieur." A voice quickly spoke as they both tried to right themselves. Looking down, Enjolras saw that he had run into a young gamin with a cap hung low over his eyes and a ragged coat drawn tightly around his shoulders.

Before he could respond, the boy darted off in the other direction. He stood for a moment staring off at the fleeting figure and felt a small smile form on his lips. He had remembered being that age once, always being in a hurry but with nowhere really to go. He was about to go on his own way again, but something felt amiss. His hand brushed the pocket of his coat. His wallet was gone. The little gamin had stolen it!

Enjolras quickly turned in the direction the boy had gone and soon began to run. He supposed to himself that the thief had been aware of his presence for a while, perhaps he had even been following him. Enjolras certainly did not have a sufficient amount of money, but what was in that wallet was really most of what he had in the world. He needed it to live off of, until the revolution anyway.

The agitation he had felt almost moments ago had turned into anger, which in itself had turned into adrenaline, which kept him running. A little ways ahead, he spotted the boy walking down the street in a careless manner.

"Hey!" He shouted, and the boy turned, and seeing it was him, began to sprint and turned down an alleyway.

Enjolras continued his pursuit and followed the clambering footsteps of the gamin through the many twisting and turning alleyways of Paris. Deep in his mind he knew that it was pointless to continue, but this was the first time in a long time that he had felt so invigorated and for once not bothering about his revolution.

He would have lost the thief for sure eventually, but then the extraordinary happened. The boy tripped on a loose stone and nearly went sprawling to his feet. He caught his footing, but by that time someone else had caught him as well.

Enjolras had grabbed the thief's forearm with one hand, and wrapped his other arm around the thief's struggling upper body.

"My wallet please." He demanded, but the gamin wasn't giving up and a moment later a sharp elbow was rammed into his stomach. He felt the air being knocked from his body and his hold temporarily loosed on the boy, who soon began to pull free from his grasp. Yet, he quickly recovered and gritting his teeth, he once more tightened his grip on the boy's arm and pulled him back, spinning him around. His free hand, grabbed the boy's other wrist tightly. The unlucky gamin tried to kick at him, but nearly lost his footing, and in doing so the cap from his head fell free.

For a moment the struggling stopped all together and as Enjolras stared down at what was in front of him, he couldn't help but utter "Mon dieu…"

No longer was he wrestling with a gamin, but with a _gamine_. A disorderly array of golden curls had fallen free from the cap's hold and now rested upon the girl's shoulders. Dark eyes stared up at him with a look of determination and fear. He was speechless and shocked at the true gender of the thief. He immediately loosened his grip on the girl's wrist, but still held onto her forearm.

"Why did you steal from me?" He found himself asking after a moment of silence. The girl went from staring at him, to staring at the ground. In his heart he already knew the answer. If it was not for food, it was for shelter, and if it wasn't that it was perhaps to pay off a debt her family owed to some bourgeoisie aristocrat. But still, he thought he was owed some sort of explanation, so when she did not answer he asked again.

"Why did you steal from me?"

Her gaze went from the ground back to him, "My sister is dying monsieur," she spoke frankly and deliberately, "she needs food and medicine that we cannot afford that is why I stole from you."

Her explanation was quick and simple. He had heard numerous stories like hers before from friends and gossip on the streets, but never before had he been so struck by the harsh reality of it. He knew she was not lying. Her eyes told him so. They stared into his almost unblinkingly and in them he could see the honesty, the pain, and the determination to survive in what truly was a very cruel world. It was for the unfortunates like her, that the revolution was for.

She tugged her wrist free from his hand, and reached into her coat and pulled out his wallet. "Here is your money monsieur. Please do not fetch the police." With those words she handed it back to him.

He accepted it with his free hand and slipped it back into his pocket, once more he was speechless. Lost in thought again, he did not notice the growing fear of the girl who stared down at the hand that still held onto her forearm.

"Monsieur," her voice brought him back to reality, "Please do not contact the police." He stared down at her for a moment and saw true fear in her eyes. When it appeared to her that he was not going to free her, she took a daring step closer until she was less than half an inch away from him. Her eyes darted up to his face several times searching for an answer, but received none from his stoic expression. "Please, I will do anything." Reaching out a shaking hand she placed it on the opened collar of his shirt and slowly began to trail it down his chest.

"Enough." He spoke softly and letting go of her arm, he removed her hand from him and stepped back. "I am not going to the police." He watched relief spread across her features. He had never even considered the idea of going to the police in the first place. They were mostly an enemy to the people, especially the infamous Inspector Javert. No one deserved to be subjected to him.

Enjolras turned and was about to make his way out of the alley, but something stopped him. Slowly he rotated back towards the girl. "Here". After a moment of consideration he pulled his wallet back out of his coat and tossed it to her. "Consider it a _cadeau_. One day things will be different. For all of us." With that he turned and left.

As he made his way to the end of the alley, he glanced back one last time and saw that the girl was staring back at him, rooted in the same spot, with a curious expression on her face. He stared back at her for a moment waiting for something he was not sure of. Realizing that he was waiting for nothing he was about to turn again, when an almost inaudible voice stopped him.

"_Merci_ monsieur." She looked at him with an expression of gratitude. Slowly, he nodded his head once and then left, making his journey home. The rest of the night for Enjolras, was almost disappointingly, rather uneventful.

**Translation Time!: **

** amant- Lover**

** mon ami- My friend**

** cadeau- gift**

** Merci - thanks**


	2. Chapter 2

** Hello again! I decided to update one more time for today. (: This chapter introduces my new character! As always reviews are appreciated and hope you enjoy!**

Mariélle quietly crept into the small room she shared with her sister. It was almost midnight; she had been out much later than expected. Part of it due to the fact that hardly anyone had been out on the streets, the other had to do with the little run in she had had. She still held onto the wallet with one hand and her father's cap in the other. She had truly been lucky that night.

If he had fetched the police, all would have been lost. It was a dangerous game that Mariélle played, but one that was beneficial to her sister's survival. She hated stealing and the few times she had done it, it had been done with much guilt on her part, and until tonight she had never been caught.

"Not even little Amélie knows what I have done for her." She thought to herself as she looked over at her sister who was peacefully asleep. This was true, not once had Mariélle ever stolen for herself, always it had been done for Amélie. Mariélle did not care if she herself went hungry, or did not have warm clothes, or money for coal. She gladly would have gone without these things, as long as Amélie had them.

She tiptoed over to her sister's beside and adjusted the blankets tighter around her sister's frail form. Putting her hand on Amélie's forehead she took note that her sister was still feverish. Today had been one of her bad days. She had been fine yesterday morning, but had taken a turn for the worse later on that afternoon. The good days were slowly, but surely, being outnumbered by bad ones. Mariélle knew that her sister was dying. It was a fact that she could not ignore. The same illness had taken their mother from them two years ago when Amélie had been six and Mariélle had been sixteen. Now it looked like it had her beloved little sister in its grasp as well. All the physicians had told her the same thing, "_There is not much that can be done. You can only do your best to keep her comfortable until it is time. Good day mademoiselle." _ And that is what she had been doing.

Walking over to the fireplace, she stoked the remaining coals and allowed herself to get warm, before taking a seat in a wooden chair that her father had carved years ago. She stared at her father's cap that now rested on the fireplace's mantle. There had been times when she wished she could throw it into the flames along with any other of her father's remaining possessions. Her father had always been a weak man, her mother had truly been the backbone of the family, yet she and Amélie had loved him regardless. Mariélle had loved him too, until last spring.

One day she woke up just before dawn and sat that he had left, and in her mind she knew that he was not coming back. Their mother's death had destroyed him and he had barely been functioning for the past year. Maybe in the long run it was for the best, because even though her father was a very skilled carpenter, he no longer was finding any work, and this forced Mariélle to give up her schooling and find work as an apprentice for a dressmaker. A job she still kept, but hardly made any money with.

It was heartbreaking at first when she began to tell the lies to Amélie. She had told the little girl that their father had found work out in the countryside and would be gone for perhaps a very long time. She had forged letters and read them to her sister, when in truth their father was illiterate, but Amélie did not know this. Most painful was answering the daily question, "Mariélle maybe father will be home today, should I clean the hearth?" Now her sister hardly asked anymore and spent long hours staring out the window, when she was not bedridden. It was staring to become more than Mariélle could bear.

She stared at the flames doing her best not to remember past hurts or how it seemed that everything had been taken away from her. At times she wanted to cry, but tears would not come, besides crying did not do anything. It wouldn't bring back her father or cure her sister. She had become resigned to the fact that whatever happened was God's will. But at times she wondered what kind of God would take everything and leave her with absolutely nothing.

She looked down at the wallet the merciful monsieur had given her. It was made of leather and was the same shade of red as his coat. She remembered how frightened she had been at first when her true identity had been revealed. She remembered how shocked his blue eyes had appeared, and how it looked like he had forgotten how to speak. Embarrassed, she then remembered how she had offered herself to him in a moment of desperation. She was grateful that he had been a gentleman and had refused such an offer.

She had vowed before that she would never sell herself. She would never sell her integrity like so many girls had done. That was the one thing she had told herself that she would never do. But what had happened proved how far she would be willing to go, so that the life of her sister would not be put in further jeopardy. She could not be sent to jail, her sister would lose her only caretaker and her small chance of survival would have been gone.

Opening the wallet she saw it contained a few francs and sous. Even if it wasn't a lot, it was enough for perhaps a week or two. She would forever be indebted to his generosity and mercy. She owed the handsome young monsieur with hair the color of the sun and eyes the color of the sky. Looking down she saw that the letter E. had been engraved elegantly on the inside of the wallet. Perhaps someone had given it to him as a present. Mariélle then thought of way she could repay him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello again ! (: Decided to post another chapter because I was boreddddd! Some of the events I have changed, for instance ,Marius meets Cosette a lot sooner, just to clairify. Thank you so much so far for the reviews and such ,it means a lot and it is really helpful! Here is another chapter, hope you enjoy and for the rest...well I think you guys know what to do!**

Enjolras found himself distracted for at least the fourth time that day. He had taken a walk earlier along the Seine, trying to compose his thoughts. He had given a speech earlier that morning, but he felt it lacked his usual ever present enthusiasm and had only attracted a small crowd. Even his companions seemed to notice that something was off about him. Though none said anything, he had caught them staring at him with a quizzical look. Especially Grantaire, who out of all of them should have been the least observant; it began to unnerve him.

A short while ago he had returned to the corner outside of the café and looking across the street, saw that Marius was speaking to a _belle femme. _He could tell from the way that Marius was blushing and appearing to stammer over his words, that this must be the girl he had become enamored with. His eyes narrowed at the sight and he looked away. Crossing his arms he leaned against the wall of the café.

His mind kept wandering back to the events that had occurred last night with the gamine. Never before had he encountered someone so bold, or with brutal honesty. Even if she had stolen his wallet at first, he forgave her easily. He would find another solution for money, and as for the wallet…well it could easily be replaced.

Reaching up, he went to adjust his collar, but froze midway remembering how blatantly she had propositioned him last night. It certainly wasn't the first time he had received such an offer, but it was the first time it had ever affected him in such a strange way. It was something that he could not quite explain.

Women had never been much of a priority to him. Most of the ones his mother had pushed at him had been silly, vain, and empty headed things. None could ever maintain a conversation with him that didn't have to do with the weather, parties or gossip. Those who had tried, had bored him to no end or did not appreciate or understand his opinions and ideas. Wit, honesty and intuitiveness meant more to him than beauty. None of those girls had ever crossed his mind more than once.

Perhaps this was why he felt so strange. His mind kept wandering back to her. Not because he was attracted to her, even though he supposed she was pretty in her way, but because she had accepted responsibility for her actions and had been honest with him. In a way she had gained his respect, which was a feat that no woman before had ever succeeded with him. It was a shame that he would probably never be given a chance to speak with her again. She could probably even be able to hold a decent conversation.

The rest of the afternoon, Enjolras was left mulling over his thoughts.

It had been completely by chance that Mariélle had stumbled upon him again so soon. Of course with all good intent she was going to look for him eventually to return his wallet, but her expectations were low because the odds of seeing him again were next to none. So she was quite surprised when on her way to the market, she saw him there in front of the café giving a speech.

There were a few bystanders, like her, who had gathered around him listening intently to his words, drawn to them like moths to a flame. She hung towards the back of the small crowd, clutching the basket she held in her hands tighter, as she listened to his speech about revolution and hope for the future. His words were empowering and she was nearly frozen to the spot as she listened.

"How much longer must the citizens of Paris be repressed? How much longer must her people go hungry? How many more of her people must die before something is done?" He paused for minute to catch his breath and as his eyes surveyed the crowd, Mariélle held hers, until his gaze passed on over her.

"I say why wait much longer? The king does not care if your wives are starving or if your children are dying. The king does not care if you have no work or no shelter over your head. He sends your husbands and brothers to fight his battles for him and what is given to you in return? Nothing he has promised. He pays you with lies. He is a tyrant and for that, we the people of France must show him what is done to tyrants! Citizens of Paris the time is now. We must rise and take back what is rightfully ours! What Lady Patria has meant it to be! A republic of people who have the right to rule themselves and live in a land where justice is the law and freedom the only king! Vive la France!" He shouted and raised his fist high into the air as the others who stood close to him chanted "Vive la France! Vive la république!"

A few members of the crowd started to join them and it took several minutes for everything to die down. As the crowd began to disperse, Mariélle too, made her exit not wishing to be seen. But once more she looked back, and saw that he had a somewhat satisfied expression on his face. Mariélle realized that he was one of the few men on this earth who actually believed in what he was saying and was a man of his own ideals, not forged by someone else's. Men like him either could do great things or be thrown into obscurity because no one would take them seriously. So far it appeared that he was the first choice of these men. For some reason this intimidated her.

As she made her way through the throng of people, she caught several comments about the enthusiastic young man. Most were in support of his plight and call for revolution, but a few were critical.

"What does he know of going hungry? I bet the boy has never gone a day without food in his life. He is a hypocrite." An older man conversed with his companion.

"He is only going to make things worse for us. _Feuteur de troubles_!" An old woman declared as she hobbled along in front of Mariélle with a young girl in tow.

"Enjolras is going to get himself killed someday." A young man muttered to himself as he pushed past her in a hurry.

Enjolras. That must be his name, Mariélle realized. It made sense after all it was the letter E. that was on the inside of his wallet. She looked down in her basket, and removing a piece of cloth, she made sure the wallet was still safely hidden. She had decided to carry it with her in case that by some miracle she would see him again.

She was thankful that he had not seen her in the crowd. Part of it may have been that she was no longer wearing her father's clothes and cap, but instead was wearing her hair in a braid and a dress. Even though it was somewhat worn and the dark blue color it had originally been was now fading, her mother had made it for her shortly before she died and it was one of the few nice things she owned and only wore it on the days she had to go to the dress shop. Madame Tóuissant expected absolute cleanliness and made sure that her working girls were always presentable. Mariélle already walked a thin line with her and today had taken especially good care of her appearance. She could not lose her job; it was the only source of her income. She was already running late as it was and she hadn't even gotten to the market yet to pick up fresh bread for Amélie. She picked up her pace.

After the work day ended, maybe she would venture back to the café and find some way to return his wallet to him. But the more she thought about it, the more it worried her, and she became apprehensive. He might not ever want to see her again after what she had done. But Mariélle had never been one to back down. Somehow she would return it to him. More determined than ever, she continued on her way.

It was shortly after nightfall and Enjolras once more found himself sitting in a corner of the café, but this time attempting to write a speech. So far the parchment in front of him remained blank and he held a quill in his hand as he attempted to turn his thoughts into words. The atmosphere was not as wild as it had been the night before, but he found himself restless.

"Here you go; my friend you look like you could use it." The voice of Marius interrupted his thoughts and as Marius set down a small glass of wine in front of him, Enjolras set down his quill.

"Marius, wait." He called back to him before he had gone too far, "I think it's time we talked."

Marius took the seat opposite of him and waited with a look of slight confusion, but still maintained a smile on his face. "About what?"

Enjolras stared at the glass in front of him, not sure how to begin. He had meant to bring up the subject earlier, but had not had the chance until now. There was no way getting around it, the matter had to be discussed.

"That girl you have been seeing," he paused and twisted the small glass of wine with his fingertips, "I think she is becoming a distraction for you."

The small smile that Marius had had on his face began to falter, "What do you mean?" he questioned and sat up straighter.

"I believe that she is distracting you from what is important." Enjolras leaned forward and placed his hand on Marius's arm, "Marius our minds need to be on revolution. My friend the time is drawing near, and we can't afford any distractions…"

"Cosette is not a distraction." Marius interrupted as he drew back his arm quickly. His smile had completely left his face, which was now darkened.

"Then what is she? You seem lost in your own world Marius, daydreaming half of the time. Daydreaming gets you killed in battle." He stated with a serious tone, "Forget your little _liaison_ and get your head out of the clouds. Love is a silly, worthless emotion that is a complete waste of my time."

Marius remained silent for a moment with his arms now crossed. "You speak of battles like you've been in one before, "he began, "But tell me Enjolras, what do you really know of them? It is the same way you speak of love. You've never been in love, but you claim that it is a worthless emotion and a distraction. Maybe it is, but if so, I would not mind being lost in the clouds and distracted for the rest of my life with some _silly, worthless emotion,_ because it is the most wonderful thing that has ever happened to me. It's like I have finally found the part of me that I had lost without knowing it, and I finally feel whole again." Marius explained.

Enjolras sat there, not quite believing what he was hearing. It was as if his companion had lost his mind. Finally he spoke after a long pause, "Maybe you should have become a poet Marius, your words are beautiful enough, but still they cannot convince me of something that is not real."

"She is real!" Marius slammed his fist down on the table, nearly causing the glass of wine to spill over and causing several heads to turn in their direction, "She is the realest thing I have ever known. My feelings for her are real and you have no right to say otherwise." Furious, Marius rose from the table and stormed out of the café.

Enjolras sat there stunned, aware that everyone's eyes were upon him. Quickly he stared down at the table. Let the others think what they want. Sooner or later that boy would have to make a decision, and he prayed that he would make the right one. Almost in a frenzy, he picked up his quill, dipped it in ink, and began to furiously write a speech about the importance of liberty over one's emotions.

"Excuse me, Enjolras?"

"Hmm…" Looking up from his parchment that was now filled with hastily scribbled words, he saw that it was the little street urchin that followed Courfeyrac around.

"What is it Gavroche?" He asked in a slightly strained voice as he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose with two ink stained fingers. The argument with Marius had left him feeling drained.

"This is for you." Enjolras heard a small thud as something landed on the table beside him, he hadn't bothered to look up yet.

"Thank you. Now run along, I have important matters to attend to." He responded and waited until he heard tiny footsteps walking away.

After a moment he looked up and saw a sight that astounded him. It was his wallet. What on earth was it doing here? It must have been her. Quickly he got up from his seat and scanned the room for Gavroche, until he saw the little boy on his way to find Courfeyrac, do doubt.

"Wait!" He called out to the boy as he ran towards him. He bent down to the boy's eyelevel and planted his hands on the child's shoulders. "Gavroche where did you find this?" He inquired, as the mischievous child stared up at him with a grin.

"Oh I didn't find it at all. Someone gave it to me." He replied slowly, with that same grin plastered on his face.

"Who gave it to you?" Enjolras continued to question him in earnest.

"Someone…who told me to give it to you." Now he figured the child was trying to torture him.

"Do you remember who that someone looked like?" He did his best to remain calm and after a second, even forced a smile.

"Oh I can't say for sure…sometimes I have trouble rememberin certain things. But maybe you have something that might help me 'member something." The child then held out his hand and looked around the room in a nonchalant fashion.

Enjolras nearly groaned, but managed to keep the smile on his face as he fished around in his pockets. Pulling out a franc he handed it to the boy, "Do you remember anything now?" He asked hopefully.

"I'm startin to 'member certain details, but still I ain't too sure…"

Gritting his teeth, his smile, he was certain, was starting to looked more forced as once more he pulled out another franc. The child was going to make him poor. "How about now?" He implored.

The child looked up at him and smiled wider, "Oh I 'member now! It was a nice young lady who gave me a piece of bread. She had a funny look on her face, like she was gonna be ill or somethin, but she asked me to give it to you as a favor and I says to her 'I swear or my name is not Gavroche, that I will find him and give it to him' so I did. " The boy finished his story, looking quite pleased with himself.

"Can you tell me, was she still outside when you left?" Enjolras asked anxiously.

"Oh…I don't know. I'm 'avin difficulties rememberin again." Gavroche trailed off and was about to raise out his hand again.

"Thank you Gavroche, but I think your skillful memory is no longer required." He patted the boy on the shoulders and almost leapt to his feet.

He did his best to leave the café, quickly without drawing too much attention to himself, and for the second night he began to make a mad dash on the streets of Paris, heading towards a figure that was quickly fading away.

**Translation Time! (: :**

**_belle femme- beautiful woman  
_**

**___Feuteur de troubles_- Trouble maker  
**

**___liaison_- affair  
**


	4. Chapter 4

** I decided to update one more time because I might not be able to for the rest of the week! Thank you once again for the reviews and for following and favoriting my story (: It means a lot and keeps me motivated! Thanks especially to Nikki15DesertRose, Sevennn, ConcreteAngelRoxHerHalo, Pyscho- Bunny1309 and Lacey for your reviews! They helped a lot and motivated me to keep going! This chapter took me awhile to write, but eventually I was able to get it written down. Its a little short, but I hope its okay! Hope ya'll enjoy! **

The rest of Mariélle's day had not been pleasant. After arriving home with fresh bread and fruit, she saw that Amélie still had a fever. She wanted to stay and watch her, but the little girl insisted that she was perfectly fine to be on her own. What worried Mariélle was that her sister's appetite was not as it once was and she practically had to force her to eat anything to keep up her strength. Even more disconcerting were the tiny spots of blood on Amélie's pillow. But nonetheless, she reluctantly went to the dressmakers.

Madame Toúissant was in one of her _humeurs_ and as soon as she had walked in the door, Madame had declared ten things that were wrong with her and at least twenty ways to fix them, before demanding she get to work. Then while sewing a piece of lace to a gown, she pricked her thumb, leaving a spot of crimson on the white material.

"You foolish girl! Do you have any idea how expensive lace is? You are becoming careless! I think you know what becomes of careless girls in this shop! They end up out on the street!" Madame's shrill voice echoed throughout the tiny shop, and the other girls giggled at Mariélle's embarrassment.

So much was on her mind that she had even forgotten to eat the pieces of bread she had brought with her for her lunch. By the time the shop had closed at half past six, she was in such a hurry to get away, that she nearly forgot her shawl and had to run back into the shop to fetch it and was given a disapproving glare by Madame. She still had to figure out some way to return the wallet. More than anything she just wished to go home to Amélie and forget the whole thing. But her pride would not let her.

So off she went to the place Saint-Michel, until for the second time that day she stood in front of the Café Musain, still not knowing what to do. She waited for several minutes, tempted to go inside herself and look for him. But her apprehension from earlier once more overtook her, so she remained outside.

A few moments later, the door burst open and an angry looking young man strode out and turned a corner. A few paces away, she noticed a young boy watching him as well, before slowly making his way towards the café. Suddenly, Mariélle had an idea.

After calling out to the boy, she asked him for a favor in return for a slice of bread. Almost immediately he agreed and with a charming smile, dashed into the café a few minutes later with Enjolras' wallet in hand and with bread crumbs on his shirt.

Feeling satisfied, Mariélle wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders as she felt small raindrops falling, and once more made her way back down the street. But still something was bothering her which she did not completely understand because she had done the right thing. Or so she told herself. The more she thought about it, the more she wished she had returned it to him herself. Now not only did she feel like a fool, but a coward as well. As she berated herself, she did not notice the footsteps running after her.

Enjolras could hear his heart beating and blood running through his veins as he rushed down the street after the quickly fleeting figure. To be honest he did not really know what he would say once he caught up with her. But he wanted to know why she had returned the wallet to him. Especially, when she could easily have kept it and sold it for more money, but this girl was different. Maybe that was why he was once more running down a street after her, because she was the unexpected in a life which was used to being so planned.

"Mademoiselle!" He called out in a moment of near breathlessness. A few feet away, the figure turned and he saw it was indeed her. She looked startled and appeared like she was about to run. "Wait!" He nearly stumbled in his hurry, but finally caught up to her and grabbed her arm to stop her.

"Please, I just want to speak with you for a moment." He managed to state as he gained control of his breathing. When it seemed that she wasn't leaving, he released her arm and took a step back.

"Before you begin monsieur, just let me apologize for last night. I know it was wrong to…"

"No, no. It's alright." He cut her off and she stared at him confused, with such wide, dark, brown eyes that they almost reminded him of a deer's, "I…well I was just curious why did you return it to me?" He asked slowly while watching her face carefully for a reaction.

She spoke softly after a moment, "I returned it because I thought perhaps that it meant something to you and I thought it should be returned to its rightful owner."

It didn't surprise him that she had guessed the sentimental value of the wallet. It was one of his few possessions that had meant something to him. His grandfather had given it to him when he was seventeen, before he left for University. Out of everyone in his family, his grandfather had understood him and had even supported him.

_"Listen to me Enjolras, you and I are made from the same mold. Yet, we are trapped in a society that does not appreciate what we have, or use what we have to help others. I tried to escape it when I was your age, but eventually I was pulled right back in again and have regretted it ever since. Listen, my boy I know that you are strong, stronger than I ever was, and I know it may be hard at first, but get out now while you still have the chance. You will become a great man Enjolras if you can succeed." _

He still remembered his grandfather's words perfectly, and when he had died two years later, Enjolras threw himself even more into his dream until it had become an obsession. He had never realized how truly important the wallet had been to him until today when he thought he might never see it again.

"Thank you, mademoiselle. I will be forever grateful." He found himself bowing his head the way he had been taught to do years ago. It added a bit of overdramatic flair, but oddly he found it appropriate. She had a small smile on her face and it wasn't soon before he realized he was smiling too. The rain drops that were almost nonexistent a few minutes before began to fall faster and grew in number. But other than the sound of the raindrops hitting the pavement beneath their feet, the rest of the street was silent.

Suddenly, the girl looked away from him and she pulled the shawl from her shoulders above her head, to protect herself from the rain. "I have to leave monsieur, my sister is expecting me." She broke the silence and turned to leave.

"Wait, please permit me to escort you. The streets are not safe at this time of night." He found himself offering before he could stop himself.

"Monsieur that is very kind of you, but I have been out on my own several times as you may well be aware of, and I don't think this time will be any different." She explained.

"But tonight you're…"

"Wearing a dress?" She smiled cutting him off.

"Well for lack of better terms, yes." He continued.

"Trust me, I think I can handle myself," she tried to give a reassuring smile, "Besides you do not even know my name, yet you are willing to escort me home? You may indeed cause a scandal yet." She laughed.

"My name is Enjolras." He bowed deeply once more, "May I have the honor of knowing your name mademoiselle?"

"Mariélle." She replied with a small curtsy, whether she was mocking him or being serious he could not yet tell.

"Well Mademoiselle Mariélle, now that we are properly introduced allow me the honor of walking you home." He rose up once more and waited for her answer.

"Then I suppose I may have to accept your offer Monsieur Enjolras." She sighed, finally relenting.

"It's just Enjolras; there need not be any formalities with me." He added as an afterthought. "But since I do not know where you reside, you will have to lead the way."

"Very well then. " She replied. And with that they began to make their way through the streets.

**Translation Time! (: :**

**humeurs- moods**


	5. Chapter 5

**Happy Monday! (: And April Fools' Day I guess for all of you little tricksters out there! :P To be honest I had such a _tough _decision to make today. Get started on my AP English homework _or_ update this while watching The Walking Dead. Guess which won out? (Hint hint Daryl ) I'll have to admit I suffered a little writers block on this chapter but yesterday an Easter Miracle of sorts happened and I got through it! I'm almost already done with chapter six as well and having some fun writing it (: Hopefully it should be up sometime towards the end of this week! Anyway enough of my useless banter! As usual thank you for reading, following, reviewing and favoriting my story! It really does mean a ton. Hope ya enjoy! (:**

Mariélle didn't quite know what to make of Enjolras. The young man walked beside her and for most of the time was silent, appearing to be deep in thought. The rain had let up slightly, but still a few drops fell now and again from the sky above. Looking at him, she saw that the rain had dampened his hair, making it curl more than it already was. He appeared almost _divin._ She easily could understand why people were drawn to him, not only was he handsome, but he had a gift with words. It was a very powerful combination.

"I saw your speech earlier today." She found herself speaking, trying to break the lull of silence between them.

He looked over at her with a curious smile, "Oh really?"

"Yes, and I think you're right. Something does have to be done." Mariélle found herself truly meaning this. She would give anything for a better life for herself and Amélie. But she did have her doubts about such a miraculous event happening.

"And something will be done. The timing has to be right and when it is revolution will happen. The people will rise up and join us." He spoke so confidently and full of hope that Mariélle wanted to believe him. But the very people he relied on were the very people that were critical of his plight.

"What happens if the people are too afraid?" She asked him not only because she wanted to know his answer, but to see if he had any idea of what they said about him.

He stopped walking all together and she paused as well. "If they are afraid, they are afraid. But fear sometimes has a strange effect on men. Sometimes it makes people more perceptive to what is around them. My hope is that the people will notice what is around them and will want to improve their lives for the better after so many years of not really living a life at all. They just need someone who is willing to be the first to stand up, and that man I hope is me." His voice was sincere and she could see that he had no doubts about the very people he was speaking of. Maybe he knew they had their doubts, but chose to ignore them. Which was either very foolish or very wise. More than anything she wanted to ask what if he was wrong. But she chose not to. He did make a strong point, philosophically anyway, and she admired him for that and almost said so, but managed to stop herself. She smiled when he began walking again, signaling that he was ready to continue.

Enjolras found himself glancing over at the girl by his side frequently, as he explained more about the revolution. Every now and then she added a comment, and he could feel her eyes on him the whole time he spoke.

He felt as if she actually was listening to what he was saying and taking him seriously, not for granted.

"General Lamarque is very ill and rumored to be near death. He is a man of the people, but when he is gone there is no one to take his place. But that is where we come in." He continued to explain eagerly.

"Amélie!" Mariélle suddenly ran past him towards a little girl a few feet ahead of them standing alone on the street, wearing a thin cotton nightdress.

"What are you doing outside?" She easily scooped up the small girl in her arms, "You know it's not good for you!" She scolded gently.

"You were running late. I was worried Mariélle!" The girl explained, then looked over in his direction with the widest gray eyes he had ever seen.

Now that he saw them together, he noted that the resemblance between the two girls was remarkable. Everything, appeared the same; they shared the same blonde hair, the same mouth, and even the same nose. Everything other than the eyes. He could see almost right away how sick the girl was. Her face had an unhealthy pallor to it, and she was painfully thin. The same gray eyes that stared at him curiously, had dark circles underneath them, yet somehow managed to still shine brightly. After staring at him for a moment, the little girl smiled. "Mariélle who is he?" She asked pointing at him.

Mariélle looked at him as well, unsure of what to say.

"A friend," he found himself answering for her, "I am Enjolras and what might your name be?" He asked walking towards them.

"Amélie." The girl continued to smile before looking up at her sister, and then back towards him.

"Well Amélie, it is an honor to meet you." He extended his hand towards the little girl's who reached out her own. After shaking her hand, he took a step back and looked at Mariélle who gave him a grateful look before adjusting the girl in her arms. Enjolras decided to take it as his opportunity to exit.

"We better get you back inside," he heard Mariélle speak sternly to the girl, "Would you like to come inside for a moment to rest Enjolras?"

Stopping, he pivoted and saw that she and Amélie were looking at him almost expectantly. Briefly, he thought about refusing. For one thing he did not wish to intrude on them and for another he was still debating whether it was worth it to forge a new friendship so close to revolution. But at the same time, Mariélle had earned his respect and gratitude, and for some reason he couldn't bring himself to hurt the feelings of the little girl in her arms.

Mariélle teasingly chastised her little sister as she carried her back into the small living space they called home. "You worry me so Amélie! Are you trying to turn my hair white before its time."

"Of course not, although it seems to be happening after all." The girl still in her arms reached up and playfully tugged a strand of her hair.

Mariélle made a face and the girl laughed as she was set down on her small bed. The laughter quickly turned into coughs and Mariélle grew concerned as Amélie hunched herself together, struggling for air.

"Amélie breathe it's alright. Try to breathe." Mariélle tried to keep her voice calm and soothing as she rubbed her sister's back in small circles.

Eventually the coughs subsided and Amélie's form relaxed. Mariélle then tucked her in and drew the blankets firmly around her. Her sister stared up at her, looking paler than a few minutes before, but still managed a weak smile. "You fret so over me. You do not need to all of the time." She spoke softly.

"But I want to." Mariélle placed a cool hand on Amélie's forehead before drawing back with a sigh of relief. At least her fever had broken. "Now get some rest." She quickly kissed her sister's cheek and stood up.

She saw that Enjolras stood near the doorway, and blushing Mariélle realized she had almost forgotten that he was there. He had an unreadable expression on his face once more, as he stared at Amélie, before glancing back at her. Looking down, Mariélle walked towards him, unsure of what he was thinking.

"Can I get you anything? I could prepare some tea if you cared for some." She asked tentatively, looking up at him once more.

"Thank you, but I should be going. I left the café in such a hurry that my companions may be wondering where I am." He gave a small laugh. Mariélle assumed that laughter wasn't a sound he made very often. She opened the door for him and waited as he stepped back outside. He turned and faced her, "Before I go, I have a friend who fancies himself a physician and if you ever need anything, please come find me and I will get him for you." His voice though serious, was kind as well and Mariélle once more fell into a state of nothing but utter gratitude and admiration for him. An emotion she rarely felt.

"That is very generous. Thank you, Enjolras." She truly meant every word that she said and somehow wished there was another way to thank him for his kindness. He appeared as if he wanted to say something more, but in his indecisiveness, faltered and instead nodded. With that he left. She watched him as he walked back down the street, and whether she wanted to admit it or not, she wished that she would be able to see him again.

As Enjolras made his back to the café, he couldn't help but remember the past fifteen minutes. He remembered his first thoughts as he stepped into the small room that was home to Mariélle and her sister. It was hardly furnished, save for a bed, the fireplace, a table and a few chairs. He saw the blankets that were folded neatly by the fireplace and knew that Mariélle slept there on the floor. But most vividly he remembered Amélie.

He saw how worried Mariélle had become as the little girl struggled for air in between violent fits of coughing that wracked her entire body. It was difficult to watch. In his heart he knew that not much could be done for her, but still he offered Joly in order to provide some support.

He remembered how grateful Mariélle had been and the way her eyes had regarded him. They were almost as haunting as her sister's and he knew that no matter how hard he tried, he knew that he would never forget them. But, he also remembered how she had smiled at him earlier. He knew he would also remember that too and how it had lighted up her entire appearance. She was already comely, but when she smiled it made it even more so.

_Stop._ Now he was starting to sound like Marius. She was pretty he supposed, but what of it? He saw _jolie filles_ every day, why start thinking of her in that way now?

It was a mistake taking the invitation to go inside of her home. It was a mistake to even offer to walk her home. It was a mistake to leave the café in the first place. Why could he not have just let the whole matter go and be satisfied? But he wasn't.

In his mind he kept telling himself exactly the reason why all of the things he had done were mistakes. But another strange, foreign, part of him knew what he had done was right. _But _he couldn't afford to be distracted. He could not allow himself to think like Marius or any of the others. Especially when he was the one leading them in a dangerous, but justified, venture.

His mind wished that he would never have to see her again. Someplace in his heart hoped differently.


	6. Chapter 6

** Decided to update again! Today has not been my day though, I hate being sick. But I decided to not think about it and keep myself occupied! I had difficulties writing this chapter but somehow managed but if it is complete crap I apologize in advance. This is seriously the longest time I have ever stuck to writing something! As usual comments and all that jazz are greatly appreciated (: I'll do my best to update whenever possible! Enjoy!**

"Where were you Enjolras?" This was the first question that was thrown at him as he stepped into the back room of the café. It was Courfeyrac who had asked, but the others were anxious to know as well. Bahorel, Feuilly, Combeffere, Joly, Lesgle and Jehan all had their eyes trained on him, waiting for an explanation. Grantaire was seated further away and was smiling down at his presumably empty glass of wine, but looked up every few seconds at the commotion.

"I went for a walk to clear my head." Enjolras stated. Personally he had never been a good liar, but managed to still feel confident after he spoke. He wandered back to the table where he had left in hurry only an hour before. The chair was left pushed out and the wallet still remained where it had been tossed by Gavroche next to his unfinished speech.

"You left in such a hurry my friend, we couldn't help but wonder if something was wrong." Joly's voice trailed off and Enjolras knew that he was still looking for a better answer.

"Nothing was wrong. I just had the sudden urge…"

"To dash out of here and go running off into the street?" Combeffere interrupted him, "If you tried to leave unnoticed you did a rather unsuccessful job of it. You nearly pushed me over in your haste." He raised the glass in his hand at him, then laughed loudly as a few of the others joined in.

"I apologize," Enjolras found himself trying to begin again, "but really all…"

"He has been disappearing a lot this past week hasn't he?" Lesgle turned to Joly, who feigned interest while trying to hide a smirk.

"Maybe he's trying to hide something." Feuilly piped in.

"Or someone." Bahorel interjected, "Could it be that Enjolras has found a new mistress at last?" He placed his chin on his hand, raised an eyebrow, and gave Enjolras such a serious look that nearly everyone else in the room had burst in fits of laughter.

"Someone other than his beloved Patria? Whoever the lucky girl is, she must be quite _phénoménal_ in order to replace such a _Maîtresse_ as Patria." Courfeyrac shouted above the amusement of the room.

"Is she a brunette or a redhead?" Joly called out.

"Is she petite or is she buxom?" Bahorel joined in.

Almost like the night before, the entire room came to life filled with laughter and the rowdiness of the young men who occupied it. None of them for one minute believed in what they were saying was true. They saw their leader in an almost flawless light; perfect without any faults and who could forgo certain temptations and for that they respected him. What they were saying was all in good fun, or what they thought was fun.

Jehan suddenly rose to his feet and jumped up on a table, "A sonnet for Enjolras and his mistress." Bowing exaggeratedly he began, "What woman? What girl? With such charm and beautiful curls could have stolen the heart of Enjolras? What shape, what size, what eyes could have stolen the heart of Enjolras? But alas something is amiss! Whatever has happened to his dear Patria?"

"That is quite enough." Enjolras forced his voice to go above the fits of laughter and cheers. He knew they were teasing and only trying to get a rise out of him, but it was starting to anger him.

Jehan slowly climbed down from the table with the ghost of a smile on his lips while the others applauded him. The laughter and merriment soon died away as they saw the darkly, enigmatic expression on the face of their friend. Perhaps it was not the best of nights to make _plaisanteries__. _Especially after they had witnessed his argument with Marius who still had not returned, and who they were certain may not be back for the rest of the night.

_ T_he others soon separated into their small groups, consisting of twos and threes, while Enjolras once more was sitting alone feeling conflicted. Every now and then one or two of them would catch his eye and after a moment of staring curiously at him, they would look down unsure of what to think. No doubt they would forget about this tomorrow, Enjolras thought to himself, they always did. He stared down intently at the speech he had started earlier after the incident with Marius. Reaching down he grabbed it and brought it closer to study the hurriedly written scrawls. After a moment, the words soon all blurred together into a chaotic jumble. He crumpled it up in his fist. Later that night, when he found himself being the last one to leave the café, he threw it into the gutter.

"No! No! Do not take him away from me monsieur! Not my little Jacques!"

A small multitude had gathered in the street, outside of a small establishment. A fatigued and gaunt looking young woman, pleaded desperately to two men who stood with her on the top step. She clung to the sleeve of one of the men who held what appeared to be a bundle of shabby blankets in his arms. The other man gently pulled her away; she soon collapsed, weeping uncontrollably, as the forlorn and tired looking man with the bundle in his arms made his way down the steps. The crowd parted instantly as he passed and made his way to a cart with a canvas pulled over the top. It was no secret what the cart carried. Disease had claimed another victim. This time a child.

Mariélle watched the wretched scene play out in front of her. The woman now lay in a crumpled heap, the man, possibly her husband, wrapped his arms around her tightly as her weeping turned into shrieks. She was no stranger to death; her mother had been put into a similar cart the day she had died, carried away by those who dealt with bereavement every day. There had been no looks of pity or soft spoken words of compassion. They simply had carried her mother away and departed. Unable to watch any longer, Mariélle quickly turned away.

It had been a week since Amélie had gone through her bad spell. She appeared much better, but still was very weak and remained confined to the room on Mariélle's strictest orders. But still she was getting thinner, her face paler, and that ever present cough was consuming her. She could not endure it if Amélie was taken away from her, she was certain that with her sister's death, she could no longer be able to survive. What life could there be if everyone she had shared it with, had left? But still she continued on living and working almost mechanically day after day.

Every now and then her mind would wander back to the night Enjolras had escorted her home. It was one of the few times that someone, especially a man, had been kind to her. Most other men she could not stand, including the ones at the dress shop. Especially Adrien. When Madame was not tormenting her, Adrien was. He was Madame's nephew and the one who presumably would inherit the business if she became deceased. When he wasn't shouting at her, he was pointing out anything he deemed to be a mistake. A trait unfortunately he shared with his aunt. He was a cruel young man and she knew he enjoyed her humiliation. Day after day he was there and day after day she did her best to keep her mouth shut and from saying something she would later regret.

But thankfully today she could go without his taunts. Thinking of this, she smiled and almost instantly her mood became lighter. The sun was shining in the azure sky above and the horrific scene she had witnessed was soon placed further back in her mind. She soon found herself wandering along the Rue Saint-Michel, and passing by children who ran around like little heathens, and men and women alike hurrying about with errands. A few disreputable individuals clung to the shadows of the buildings, one cleaning his fingernails with a knife, scanned the passerby's for possible victims. She made sure not to catch his eye.

Mariélle soon was across the street from the café. This time a great crowd was gathered and she could barely see what was going on. But, a cheerful feeling arose in her as she saw who they were listening to. This time Enjolras was standing on a small platform made of crates, slightly above everyone else, as if he was on his own stage. His speech was very similar to what it had been the very first time she had heard it. But still his ability to enliven the people in front of him was remarkable. His gestures were very animated, and his voice loud and clear.

"Very talented is he, no?"

A soft, yet slightly strained voice tore Mariélle's eyes away from Enjolras' speech. A girl about her own age, stood with a small smile by her side. Her dark hair appeared unkempt and was tangled about her shoulders, the tattered dress she wore was filthy with dirt and grime from the streets, and large brown eyes stared at her from beneath long lashes. Despite her unclean appearance, she was pretty in an evocative way and Mariélle smiled back. "Oui," She replied.

"Handsome too, I suppose. His friend is more so though." Mariélle followed the girl's eyes to a freckled young man who stood near him. The expression on the girl's face saddened fleetingly, before she smiled again, "But no woman from what I have heard has ever won his heart. He lives for liberty and that alone. The revolution is what he exists for. I have never known anyone driven by such obsession." She remarked before turning back to Mariélle.

"It appears that way." Mariélle answered glancing back at him slowly with a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach. "But he is right. Something must be done."

The girl nodded and stuck out her hand, "My name is Éponine."

Mariélle shook it and responded "Mariélle."

For a few moments longer the two girls watched the speech, until it had ended with the cries for freedom. Today Mariélle noticed that the crowds were more fervent and enthusiastic, she even felt that way too. She observed him as his eyes wandered over the crowd, looking almost triumphant. This time his eyes caught hers. For a moment he continued staring at her, with a strange, almost conflicted expression before quickly looking away. Mariélle too did the same.

"Don't be fooled by his charm, it only exists for his cause. I know a thing or two about caring for someone who doesn't want you," Éponine looked from her to the ground before resting her eyes on her again, "it is not worth the pain it causes."

"No, I don't…" Confused, Mariélle tried to explain, but someone called out the girl's name from a few feet away.

"I must go. Goodbye Mariélle." Éponine quickly ran off in the direction her name had been called and quickly vanished into the crowd.

She thought about the girl's words to her. She had no idea what Éponine had meant. She had no other feelings for Enjolras other than gratitude and perhaps even friendship. But still the strange warning troubled her. Even more so, when she spotted him walking towards her.

** DUH DAH DUH! (:**

**Translation Time!:**

**_phénoménal_- phenomenal  
**

**_Maîtresse_- Mistress  
**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hello again! (: I apologize in advance for not updating sooner but the SATs are this week and I have been studying like mad as well as typing up a huge research paper! This is kind of a shorter chapter, but I wanted to update one last time before all the stress of this next week gets to me! As always reviews are loved and appreciated. Thanks to all those who have been following and favoriting this story! Its pathetic but I do a little victory dance each time someone does either of those things :P Well I'll leave you to it and I hope you enjoy! **

It had been nearly a week since he last saw her. Things for Enjolras had returned relatively back to normal; planning for the revolution had resumed and long nights were spent at the café in preparation. Marius had even forgiven him for their little spat and even though tensions had cooled, they still remained nonetheless. At time he kept his distance from Enjolras and he no longer mentioned Cosette in his presence. The others no longer thought that something was troubling him, or so he assumed, and he was thankful for that.

But still at times, mostly when he had a minute to himself or sat alone trying to write a speech, his mind wandered. He began to wonder if he would ever find peace again. He still could not fathom what was wrong with him.

Today however, when he awoke around dawn, he felt tranquil and somewhat content, in fact more than he had in days. As he gave his speech, he felt more enthused than he had for a while. A vast crowd was drawn in around him and he could tell from their attentive expressions that they were listening. They did care. He felt as if he was _au sommet de réussite. _

When he had scanned the crowd, his eyes had landed on a familiar face. It was Mariélle. He noticed briefly that she was standing close to Éponine, who no doubt was waiting for Marius. After a moment, her eyes met his and she stared back at him with an odd look that he could not name. It made him curious as to what she was thinking. But, he broke her gaze as the chanting of the crowd grew

Once the crowd began to disperse he stepped down from the crates that had been his makeshift stage. The others were still wrapped up in the excitement. For once Grantaire appeared partially sober and was looking around with a smile. The little urchin, Gavroche, was perched on Courfeyrac's shoulders, as he laughed. The atmosphere was lively. He looked over once more towards Mariélle and saw that she was conversing with Éponine. He knew it would be for the best if he kept his distance, but at the same time he wanted to speak with her again.

He found himself walking in her direction. As his feet hit the pavement beneath him, a nagging voice inside of his head was once more telling him that he was making a mistake. He chose to ignore it and decided to rationalize the situation instead. There was nothing wrong with what he was doing. He held conversations every day.

As he approached, Éponine darted off towards the alleyway and he saw that Mariélle was left standing alone with a strange look upon her face. It looked as if something was troubling her. Her eyes were downcast and a small frown turned down the corners of her mouth.

He decided he liked it better when she smiled. He admitted it was a strange thought to have, but it was _vrai._ And true it was when a second later she became aware of his presence and smile she did. All traces of what had been troubling her had vanished almost instantly.

"Good day." She was the first one to speak and it caught him off guard, but he nodded in return.

"It is," he responded glancing around the busy street, "May I inquire about your sister?"

"Amélie is much better. Her fever has not returned and she is doing as well as can be expected." She paused for a moment looking down, and the small frown that had vanished, returned quite quickly, but disappeared again a few seconds later, "Thank you for asking."

There was an awkward pause of silence between them. He noticed that there were dark circles underneath her eyes that he hadn't noticed the last time. He wondered how she could sleep on the cold floor night after night, but at the same time he also could understand why she would do it. She truly cared for her sister and he knew she would be willing to do anything for her. If he had had any siblings he was certain that he would have done the same.

"Enjolras!"

Courfeyrac's voice interrupted the stillness as he wandered towards where he and Mariélle stood.

"We were wondering where you had wandered off to again. It's a good thing you did not go very far, Joly was wondering…" Courfeyrac stopped midsentence as he noticed who Enjolras was standing near, "Oh pardon me, I did not mean to interrupt."

"It is alright." Enjolras forced a small smile and took a step backwards. He felt ill at ease and began to hope that the others would not turn this into another joke at his expense. He could not endure another of Jehan's sonnets. Taking a deep breath he decided to make the proper introductions. "Courfeyrac this is Mariélle."

"An honor to meet you mademoiselle." Courfeyrac took the opportunity to bow and when she timidly extended her hand, he kissed it before taking a step back, as she tried to suppress a smile.

"What was it that Joly wanted to know?" Enjolras turned to his friend, who noted that he seemed somewhat impatient.

"Oh, it was nothing." Courfeyrac smiled almost devilishly.

"Are you certain?" Enjolras studied his friend carefully.

"He can ask you himself later on. I don't remember half of what he was saying anyway. You know how he is worrying about the silliest of things never taking time to just live life." Courfeyrac explained, " Now this one on the other hand, is nearly as bad, he never takes a moments rest I can assure you." He changed the subject and spoke to Mariélle as he clapped Enjolras good-humoredly on the shoulder. "Him and his revolution."

"It is our revolution." Enjolras spoke and for a moment his face was very serious, quite contrasting with the comicalness of his friend.

"You see? He is too serious." Courfeyrac laughed ignoring him, "If you ever are looking for an entertaining time you can search for me. At least I am not as they say _un bâton dans la boue._ It was a pleasure to meet you mademoiselle!" With that he wandered back to the café.

"He is somewhat of a Casanova I take it?" Mariélle turned to Enjolras, with a small laugh.

"One could say that." He replied running a hand through his hair, "But he has a strong heart. They all do." He looked at the others who stood a few yards away, and for a moment felt proud.

At that moment a cart began to move through the street with a grim looking man pulling the horse harnessed to it behind him. Whoever stood in its way stepped aside quickly. He recognized what cart it was almost instantly and what it carried. Next to him, he saw that Mariélle's face had gone ashen and her hands that were held firmly at her sides moments earlier, were trembling slightly. He understood why.

"Would you like to accompany me for a small walk?" He inquired quickly, almost without a second thought, "It would be best to spend a day as pleasant as this elsewhere."

She did not speak but with a slight inclination of her head he understood. He slipped his arm though hers and together they swiftly left the emptying street.

**Translation Time! (:**

**_au sommet de réussite._ on top of the world  
**

**_vrai- truth  
_**

**___un bâton dans la boue_- a stick in the mud  
**


	8. Chapter 8

** Well happy Friday everyone! (: I survived the SAT (Whoohooo!) I actually finished up most of this chapter in my math class believe it or not which I guess shows how much I care about dividing square roots. Anyways as usual thank you for all the reviews and all that fun stuff! (: It makes me want to continue this even more and I'll do my best to update at least once every week maybe even twice! Enjoy!  
**

Mariélle felt considerably better once they left the Rue Saint-Michel. She was aware of Enjolras' steady arm helping to guide her and was appreciative. For some reason, seeing the cart once more had troubled her deeply and made her feel ill. She focused on the sounds of the few people that passed them here and there, and took in deep breaths of fresh air that mixed with the scent of budding flowers that were typical for the season. For maybe ten minutes they walked in nearly complete silence. After a while she began to notice that they were walking along the streets of the wealthier side of Paris, which she rarely traversed through.

At times she forgot that there was this clean and _agréable_ side of Paris that existed. Juxtaposed with what she had witnessed this morning, and nearly every day, she was astonished at the great differences between the two. The citizens that passed them seemed to be for the most part, well-to-do. Gentlemen in tall hats, with silk handkerchiefs in the top pockets of their finely tailored coats, accompanied women wearing decorative bonnets, whose long skirts billowed out around them and swished with every movement. Occasionally questioning looks or odd glances were given to her and Enjolras as they walked, but some gave polite gestures or a word or two in brief greeting.

As they approached a bridge that overlooked the Seine, their rather brisk walking pace slowed down to more of a stroll. Mariélle had by that time, nearly forgotten about the cart once more. The image still existed, but it did not dominate her mind. Besides it did no good to think of frightening things, it only made them worse in the long run. If she could help it, the man and his cart would never take away Amélie.

"Are you alright?" Enjolras spoke quietly but the concern in his voice seemed considerable. When she looked at his face, his expression was passive and did not betray any emotion in his voice. But his eyes were piercing.

They seemed to be evaluating her or searching for an answer. It wasn't unnerving, but it wasn't pleasant either. Breaking his gaze she nodded, "I am now, thank you. I don't know why but just seeing," She paused not knowing how to continue.

"You don't owe me an explanation." As he spoke, for an instant a look of understanding appeared, changing his features and the seemingly harsh and analytical searching in his eyes vanished. No longer did he look like a marble statue of some ancient god, but more human.

But then another unreadable emotion clouded his face, and once more he became almost distant. He slowly withdrew his arm from hers and wandered over to the side of the bridge. For a moment she felt a small pang of hurt, but quickly brushed it off, and soon followed him.

Resting his arms on the stone ledge in front of him, Enjolras stared down at the river below. Even though the sun was blazing high in the sky above, the water, especially in the shadowy recesses of the bridge, appeared murky and dark. It seemed to almost give an ominous warning, perhaps foreshadowing events to come. He did not know whether to feel apprehensive or ecstatic. But he was prepared. Prepared to prevail or prepared to die. What did it matter? Either way he was ready for the silent cry that had been escalating for years. All that was needed was the final push. The push that might occur at any day, or any second for that matter. It was something that he looked forward to with enthusiasm and perhaps a small amount of dread. Dread and a sense of foreboding that he could not explain.

"What do you see, Enjolras?" He turned to Mariélle who now stood by his side. He must not have noticed her walking towards him. The young woman peered over the ledge looking for whatever she thought he saw. A few small strands of her hair that the wind must have loosened from her braid, whipped about her face before she tucked them back behind her ear. It was a simple gesture, yet at the same time captured his attention.

"Nothing." He responded quickly and straightened up. Glancing at him, she gave him a puzzled look before turning her attention back to the river.

"The water is very clear today," she remarked, "Look, there are even a few boats out!" She extended her hand and pointed in a direction further out on the water. He saw a few small sailboats gliding lazily along the river, which the sunlight now made glitter. He thought it almost amusing how she did not even see the shadowy depths that he had been focusing on, but right away only saw the light.

"I remember once when I was younger, before my mother died and when Amélie was just a baby, my papa he paid to take a sailboat out for the day. " As she spoke, she smiled fondly and her eyes appeared bright and cheerful, "My mother also packed a picnic and after we went sailing, we ate and for the rest of the afternoon until almost sunset, I think, we played games until I was so exhausted that my papa had to carry me the rest of the way home because I fell asleep." She then turned and rested her back on the side of the bridge and stared down at her hands, "We did not have a lot of money, but I remember it so well not just because of the sailboat, but because we were all together."

Enjolras found himself listening carefully. He knew that he was probably one of the few people to have heard this story. It was a very personal memory that she had just shared with him and he also knew it was important to her. "Your father is he..." He found himself asking, not meaning to pry, but he was curious. She had never mentioned anyone else in her family before, other than her sister.

"Dead? No." Her features darkened a little, whether from sadness or anger he could not tell. "He left us about a year ago. I do not know where he went, but I don't think I shall ever see him again. Amélie does not know, she thinks he is off working in the country. I couldn't bring myself to tell her the truth."

An immense feeling of pity suddenly overcame him. He had assumed that both of her parents were dead up until what she had told him. He almost felt ashamed and foolish for asking the question he had. She stared down at the ground for a minute or so, before once more staring at him. All traces of hurt or anger were gone.

"Does your family know about what you do? The revolution I mean." She spoke quietly.

He paused before answering, "I have not spoken to them in almost five years, so I do not think they are aware of it."

_Do not return to this house again unless you have emptied your head of these foolish notions! You are a disgrace to this family and to me as well, your own father. Get out!_

He still remembered the last words his father has roared at him before he left, as well as the sound of the door being slammed behind him. That was one of the few moments in his life that he had felt alone. But that feeling soon disappeared once he had met his companions and soon afterwards the revolution was established.

"Oh." her face reddened slightly and she stared at her hands.

"Besides they wouldn't support it, they come from money, but I didn't belong with them. I'm now considered the black sheep of my family." He looked around and saw how empty the bridge had become, noticing that they were the only two left. It was getting later and soon he should be returning to the café.

Soon they were walking back the way they had come. They had stayed at the bridge for a few more minutes, mostly staring at the river, but occasionally spoke to one another. Her hand rested lightly on his arm now, as they passed a variety of shops. Suddenly she stopped and pointed to a rather small looking establishment, with _Toússaint _emboldened andpainted grandly in emerald on the outside window.

"I am a seamstress there." She explained, and he suddenly had a vague recollection.

"I believe when I was younger my mother used to purchase some of her gowns there." He began, "I remember one day I accompanied my mother and there was this rather fearsome looking woman there and by accident I tilted over one of the displays and received a rather shrill sermon about clumsiness and indecency." As he spoke, Mariélle tried to stifle her laughter.

"That must have been Madame Toússaint herself." She said, staring through the glass at a large shadow in the background. He soon found himself looking curiously, and soon they were both met with the site of the owner in the flesh, staring back at them with a look of shock which a second later was replaced with a glare.

He too found himself trying to control his laughter. "We better leave." Mariélle suggested, "She may still recognize you, she never forgets a face, especially one she has screeched at."

Before they could continue, the door to the shop suddenly burst open and three raucous gentlemen exited. The tallest of them, stood in the center and had an air of superiority about him, and when his eyes spotted Mariélle he sneered and mockingly tipped his hat before making his way down the street with his friends. Enjolras found himself instantly disliking the young man. Mariélle's laughter had stopped abruptly and he noticed that an uncomfortable look had replaced it. "We better continue." She suggested.

He soon thought no more of the young fop and they continued on. They soon arrived where they had both been this morning, before any incident had occurred. No longer were there any bustling crowds or strangers rambling about in a hurry. Just like the bridge had been before they had left, this street was now quiet as well with the café simply standing in the foreground.

"I must admit I am glad we came across one another again." He was the first one to speak and found that what he was saying was the truthfully how he felt. Some of the restlessness he had felt earlier and the days before had left him. The conversations that they had held had lightened his mood considerably, "We shall have to meet again soon. Hopefully before the revolution."

For an instant her face appeared despondent, but she smiled so quickly that he even wondered if he had seen it all. "Yes," she nodded "and again, thank you." Once more a few strands of her hair loosened and fluttered around her face. He found himself reaching out on instinct, as if to fix them. But he managed to realize what he was about to do and pulled his hand back, as she reached up her own to fix it. But as he did so, his hand grazed hers and he nearly froze at the peculiar contact. Once more everything that he lived by and had told himself countless of times rushed back to him and flooded his thoughts, particularly the argument he had had with Marius. He stepped back.

She stared at him with a look of confusion, much like the one after she had spoken with Éponine. "Good night Mariélle." He uttered promptly and took his leave. Not matter how much he told himself otherwise,he found it was hard not to feel guilt as he left her standing alone in the street.

**Translationsss:)**

**_agréable_- pleasant  
**


	9. Chapter 9

** Soooo, I got bored and after writing a lot today decided to update one more time this weekend! :P This I think is one of my longest chapters and as a warning there is some violence towards the end of it. I honestly have never written something like this before so I apologize in advance if it sucks! I am introducing a new character that I have mentioned earlier I think hopefully by the end of this chapter you may learn to hate him as much as I have! But as usual thanks for reading and reviewing and following and favoriting this thing! (: (drum roll) So here it is!**

The sun was just beginning its ascent into the sky as Mariélle nearly raced through the streets to the dress shop. Last night, Amélie's fever had returned and Mariélle had spent most of it awake by her side as she coughed violently, struggling to breathe. Once Amélie fell into a fitful sleep around midnight, only then did Mariélle allow herself to get some rest as well. She woke up much later than she should have and as a consequence was running very late. The shop had opened nearly ten minutes ago and she was nearly there. If she were lucky, Madame may not have made her rounds yet and she could slip in unnoticed. She had done it before once or twice, and none of the other girls had said anything.

She hadn't had time to put her hair into its usual braid and now it whipped wildly around her face as she ran the last few paces to the shop. Nearly flying up the steps, she almost fell, but caught herself in time before pulling open the door slowly and hesitantly stepping inside. The front of the shop was empty; breathing a sigh of relief she placed her shawl on a hook next to the other girls'. Taking a moment she quickly smoothed down her dress and hair in a small effort to appear presentable in order to abate Madame's wrath, before turning to make her way to the workroom. She pushed her legs to move fast, even though she was nearly out of breath already. She wasn't paying attention whatsoever to where she was going and in her haste she did not see who was approaching her until it was too late.

It felt like she had run into something made of stone. The instant it happened, the air was knocked from her body and she most likely would have fallen if two hands had not reached out to steady her, proving that she had not run into _something_, but _someone_. She felt her face go red as embarrassment coursed through her body. She prayed it was not an important customer or else Madame would have her head. She began to form words, but any apology she would have offered, died almost instantly on her lips when she saw who it was that she had run into. It was Adrien.

"My, my someone is certainly in a hurry today. Running late again Mariélle?" A mischievous and sly grin replaced his look of momentary surprise. Although his voice was as soft as velvet, she saw the true intent behind it.

"I believe an apology is to be owed to me." There was arrogance in his voice and she was aware that his hand remained on her arms as he stared down at her amused, waiting for an answer she was not willing to give.

Instead she tried pushing past him, hoping that he would let her go on her way, but soon felt idiotic hoping for such luck because of course he did not let her go and pulled her back to where she had stood.

"I believe you should show me some respect Mariélle. Believe it or not I have some say in who can continue to work here and who leaves." His grip tightened on her arms until it was almost too painful to bear, "Apologize." He hissed and any early amusement on his face had disappeared and was replaced with such a cold and menacing look, that momentarily he frightened her.

"I am sorry." She managed to speak with gritted teeth. More than anything she hated groveling, especially to Adrien, but he was right. If he wanted to he could kick her out on the very street if he wished, as easily as Madame could.

Seemingly satisfied, he released his hold on her and stepped back as he adjusted his dark burgundy cravat. Any anger on his face was gone and had been quickly replaced with another smile. She stared down at her forearms where his hands had pushed up the sleeves of her dress, revealing almost scarlet red marks from the grip of his hands.

Now he was leaning up against the frame of the doorway, as if nothing had occurred, effectively blocking her way into the workroom. His dark hair, as usual was untidy and some of the buttons on his waistcoat were undone. No doubt he had been out last night, drinking away his inheritance. She knew of this because of the many arguments she and the other girls had overheard between him and his aunt about the very subject. He had even probably been on his way to some tavern with his companions when she had seen him two days ago when she had been with Enjolras.

In her mind she couldn't help but briefly compare the two. Adrien, like Enjolras, she supposed was handsome and possessed strong characteristics. But unlike Enjolras, his features were crudely sharp and cold. He reminded her of a fruit that appeared fresh and beautiful on the outside, but whom on the inside, was rotten to the core. He also possessed blue eyes like Enjolras, but in them was no pity or human warmth. Instead they were chilling, like ice.

Not once had he offered a kind word to anyone. Only criticisms and hateful remarks left his lips. Even though she hated him, she pitied him at the same time and wondered if the reason he was so cruel and devoid of compassion, was that perhaps no one else had ever shown him any. Still it was no excuse. Not much was known about his early life, only that a year ago he had come to live with his aunt at eighteen. Even then he was mean-spirited, now he was ten times worse.

As if sensing her study of him, he looked away for a moment before speaking again. "Now tell me why you were late _mon ange_?"

Inwardly she cringed at his use of such an affectionate term. The way he spoke it, he completely changed the meaning into something that was repulsive.

"I overslept." She answered simply and coolly.

"Now there's got to be a better explanation than that." He replied uncrossing his arms as once more he moved towards her. She should have known that he wasn't going to leave her alone.

"You obviously were in a hurry that I can see." He stood less than a foot from her. She wanted to step back or try to push past him again, but fearing the repercussions of such an act, she stood her ground. "Tell me the truth." His hand snaked out and grabbed her chin, tilting her face up so her eyes met his.

She could detect the smell of brandy and almost recoiled. He was too close for her liking.

"Perhaps you were with someone last night." His insinuation disgusted her, and seeing the look on her face he laughed. "Of course not, you're too naïve for that aren't you?" As he spoke his other hand reached up towards her hair. It was too much for her.

She shot backwards getting away from him as fast as she possibly could. Her fear was replaced with rage and her fists were clenched at her sides. "I am telling you the truth, I overslept. If you must know I have a sister who is very ill with no one else in the world to care for her. I doubt you have ever cared for anyone other than yourself, so I do not expect you to understand. All I ask is that you accept my explanation and let me go to work _monsieur."_ Sarcasm dripped from her words and breathing heavy she stepped past him still full of fury. This time he let her go.

When she reached the doorway she stopped suddenly as the full realization of what she had done hit her fully. Slowly she turned and saw that he remained where he stood with an expression of shock on his face. Mariélle remained frozen, waiting for his reaction berating herself. Oh why could she not have bitten her tongue when she had the chance? But then a smile slowly crept upon his face and once more his eyes regained their cruel look.

"I never thought such anger existed in you," he spoke slowly, "You're lucky that my aunt will not be in until later today. Get to work."

His words surprised her, but before she could move again he spoke once more.

"It appears _mon ange_ has a bit of hellfire in her."

For some reason those words chilled her to the bone as she pushed open the heavy set of doors in front of her. The laughter that followed only made it worse. One thing she did not know was that he was not yet done with her.

"General Lamarque is rumored to be on his deathbed. Any day now we must be ready."

Enjolras spoke calmly to the young men that surrounded him. Tonight they had met in Combeffere's apartment. The room felt small, but at the same time he thought it helped add to what he was saying, as the others listened intently to him as he spoke. The room, with all the extra bodies, was very warm. Minutes before he had removed his topcoat and cravat, the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows and beads of perspiration had formed above his brow.

As he continued to speak, the door creaked open slowly and he turned his head. It was only Pontmercy. Realizing he was late, he stepped in slowly with an almost apologetic smile. As he closed the door behind him, Enjolras thought he spotted the fleeting figure of Éponine. There was no doubt in his mind where Marius had been. He chose not to say anything, not wishing to cause another useless argument. If the boy would not heed his advice, there was nothing more he could do. He continued speaking and laying out his plans to the others, who momentarily were distracted, poking one another and giving the latecomer knowing glances. When Enjolras finished, he sat down on one of the wooden chairs around the small table where the majority of the other boys were sitting. Combeferre soon went into one of his own philosophic lectures and everyone else's attention became enraptured, except for Enjolras'.

For the past two days he had been tormenting himself. He knew in his mind that he was being ridiculous. It was perfectly sensible what he had done and he should not feel any amount of fault over it. But he did. No matter how much he tried to talk himself out of it, the guilt was still existent. He had not slept well in the past forty eight hours and so his mood at times was not the lightest. Irritation had crept into his mind. Earlier in the day, Gavroche had been trying to tell him something while he was in the middle of writing plans, and he had to stop himself from speaking in order to prevent himself from saying something he might regret. Taking a deep breath he rested his face in his hands, in order to ease the headache that had begun to grow.

_ He had done nothing wrong. What he had done was absolutely sensible. He had done nothing wrong. _He kept telling himself over and over, hoping that in saying it enough he would eventually believe that it was true. But he kept picturing the hurt look in her eyes when he had left her standing there in the street and knew that his attempts were futile.

"Goodbye Mariélle!" The simultaneous voices of her friends Angelique and Jacqueline rang in Mariélle's ears as they both left the shop arm in arm.

After the earlier altercation with Adrien, her day had actually improved. Madame had not once yelled at her "For not making things _soigné_" and in fact, had even in her own way, gruffly complimented the handiwork on the gown she had been working on. The only thing that troubled her was getting home to Amélie and seeing if her fever had left her. She was the last one leaving the shop and until a few moments ago, had been putting away bolts of cloth. It was already dark from what she could see outside the window and the only source of light was the small flame in the oil lamp by her side which she had just put out after grabbing her shawl.

As she stepped out into the darkness, a strange uneasiness grew in her, but disappeared with the sound of a trotting horse pulling along a carriage. The carriage driver greeted her briefly before continuing along his route and smiling, she began her own way home. As she walked she noted that not very many people were out on the streets, yet for a moment she swore she could hear footsteps behind her, but they then quickly disappeared. Unease returned to her once more as she turned the corner of the street. Looking behind her she saw nothing. But turning around she nearly bumped into a dark figure. She jumped before realizing it was Adrien. _Mon dieu_, she thought to herself. How could she be so hapless that she had ran into him almost twice in one day?

"Pardon me." She offered quickly, not wanting to get into another argument and waited for him to step out of the way. But of course he did not move.

As she looked at him, something about him seemed off. It did not take her long to figure out what. He took a staggering step forward and she knew that he was drunk.

"Ahh it is you Mariélle." He laughed and the strong smell of alcohol perforated her senses.

"Adrien, please I need to go. My sister is waiting for me." She skipped right to the groveling, hoping that it would appease his ego.

"Can she not wait for a few minutes? I wish to speak to you." He grabbed her wrist, but she quickly pulled it out of his grasp.

"Speak to me when you're sober." She cast aside all her good intent and began to move. A second later she was pulled back almost violently.

"Adrien, please." Once more she was uncomfortably close to him and she tried to free her hand once more. He was not letting go this time.

"You should not have spoken to me in such a fashion earlier. It is not your place to do so." He spoke close to her ear, his breath hot and putrid.

"You are right I shouldn't have and I apologize. But please for the love of God, Adrien let me go!" She continued to try to twist away, but to her horror he began to drag her into the alleyway. She began to kick and struggle even more, but even though he was drunk, he was still stronger than she. Seconds later she was roughly shoved into the alley wall, the back of her head hitting the stone, nearly causing her to cry out.

"Adrien stop." She tried to remain calm as she continued to wriggle underneath him. When he still refused to budge, she managed to free her hands.

"Even though you shouldn't have done it, at the same time it was so…passionate." He ignored her and went on speaking his face closer to her own. Realizing what he was attempting to do, her hands quickly turned into fists which she began to pummel against his chest as she began to scream.

"Enough!" He roared and grabbing her wrists he shoved them over her head, entrapping her.

His face bent towards her throat, and he began to place kisses along her jawline. She continued to scream, but to her dismay no one heard her. For a moment his hands loosened their hold and she slipped one of hers away. As his mouth roughly traveled higher to her face, she reached out and raked her hand across his cheek. He shrieked in pain and she took the opportunity to push him away, but she didn't even make two steps before one of his arms wrapped around her middle and yanked her back. Once more her back took the brunt of the force when she hit the wall again. Momentarily disoriented, she didn't even see his closed fist until it collided with her face. He hit her three more times after that before her screams began to fade away.

Her mouth was filled with the coppery taste of blood and for a few seconds all she could see were bright flashes of light. When her vision returned, he once more had her ensnared with a triumphant look, despite the trickle of blood running down his face from where she had scratched him. He went back to kissing her collarbone, and he began to paw at her with his hands. She tried to kick him once more and succeeded, only to receive a blow to her ribs that caused her to double over in agony. He was going to kill her.

As his hands began to lift up her dress, she managed one more scream.

"Shut up!" His hands dropped the skirt of her dress, but reached up to her throat. She began to close her eyes, praying that it would be over with quickly. But the pressure of his hands around her neck had disappeared after the sound of a loud crash! Opening her eyes, she saw Adrien's crumpled form lying unconscious at her feet, with splinters of glass around him. The dark shadow of a girl with what appeared to be a broken bottle gripped tightly in her hands, stood over him with a look of complete revulsion and loathing. It was Éponine.

"Pig!" She muttered and did not hesitate in delivering a swift kick to his side.

Never in her life, had Mariélle been so glad to see someone.

**Translations! (:**

**_mon ange- my angel_**

**___soigné_- elegantly done  
**


	10. Chapter 10 Part One

** Sooo i've meant to update a lot sooner but I have been really busy for the past week and a half so it has been nearly impossible! I decided though to break this chapter up into two parts and as soon as I am able to,I will update again for the second part! As usual thank you for all the feedback, I appreciate it a ton! (: Enjoy!**

Mariélle's eyes darted from Éponine to Adrien's unmoving body several times, as her disordered thoughts tried to comprehend everything that had occurred. Her legs felt ready to give out and she slid slowly to the ground with her back still against the wall of the alleyway. Could it be that only moments ago that he had his hands all over her? Those same hands that had beaten her and were ready to strangle her? The thought of what he had almost done made her want to retch.

"I was walking nearby when I heard you scream," the girl in front of her began to speak, her eyes still focused on Adrien with a look of intense hatred, "I saw him hurting you and I knew I couldn't let him continue. The bâtard must have dropped this himself." For a moment she raised the half-broken bottle in her hands, "Bet he never imagined it would be used against him. I see men like him nearly every day. _Men_ like him deserve everything awful that happens to them." Sneering, she dropped the remnants of the bottle to the ground where it then shattered completely.

The eyes of the girl then turned to her and the look of contempt turned to one of worry. Mariélle could only imagine how she appeared to the other girl. The right side of her face, especially, stung and was still smarting. She felt blood dripping down her cheek from what might have been a small laceration, made perhaps by the small ring that Adrien always wore, and the rest of her body now began to ache as well. Her shawl lay on the ground a few feet away where it must have fallen during the struggle. She still could not formulate anything to say, and when she tried to speak or offer her gratitude, her voice felt hoarse and only monosyllables left her mouth. She felt hot tears brimming in her eyes, but managed to keep them from being shed. Éponine moved towards her and began to speak, but stopped as the body on the ground began to groan and move slightly.

"We need to get out of here. I can take you somewhere safe for now. The place where I just came from …well the people there can be trusted." She spoke softly but urgently and offering a hand, helped Mariélle to her feet.

Once standing, Mariélle sucked in her breath as she felt the full extent of everything that had been done to her. For a moment, the world in front of her spun violently, but biting her lip she told herself that she must persevere and the wave of dizziness left her. Éponine picked up her shawl from the ground, before placing a gentle arm around one of her shoulders to help guide her out of the alleyway.

Mariélle did not pay particular attention to where Éponine was taking her, but she had some idea of their surroundings. Every now and then, the other girl would give her a reassuring look.

"We are almost there, I promise. It is just a little further down this street." She gave Mariélle's arm a small, encouraging, squeeze.

The lightheaded feeling never completely left her and every now and then, black dots would begin to swim in front of her vision and she would have to stop for a moment to slow her breathing until they went away again. She wasn't really sure where she was being taken, but was assured that wherever it was, it was better than remaining out on the streets where Adrien could possibly be looking for her. Another disturbing thought suddenly crept into her mind. She could not go back to the dress shop again. She could only imagine what he would have in store for her there if she returned. If he wanted to he could possibly have her arrested, and she was certain that the police would believe him over her. It was simple. He had money and she had none.

These were just a few of the troubling thoughts that she began to ponder over as Éponine led her up the steps of a small tenement building. Many more arrived once she stepped through the door. As she was led up a narrow staircase, she began to feel consumed and it felt like everything was hitting her at once, adding more injury to her already bruised body. What was she going to do? Without employment, she had no income. Without money, she could not buy food or pay the rent. She would be out on the streets in a matter of weeks. Not only she, but Amélie as well.

_Amélie. _It was at that moment when for the first time in her life, Mariélle felt like a failure. The little girl depended on her. She was the only one who could physically provide for the both of them and now what was she going to do? No work. No money. She had absolutely nothing left.

She did not even realize that they were in front of a door, until it was pushed open rather suddenly by Éponine. Compared to the bleak darkness and emptiness of the hallway, the room in front of her was illuminated and filled with people. Not just people, but students with familiar faces. Faces that were now staring at her with varying looks of confusion and surprise. She recognized them all in some form or another in simply a matter of seconds. After that it did not take her long to find the one face out of all of them that she knew, she supposed, the best. _He _was standing, in fact out of all of them, he was the only one standing. With his shirtsleeves rolled up and his hands resting out on the table in front of him looking over papers, he appeared to be frozen in mid-sentence. His expression quickly turned to one of recognition, which then began to turn into one of shock.

She was able to manage a small smile, even as her vision began to darken and the room started to sway in front of her. Whether it was from her injuries, the stress and worry that had begun to eat at her mind, or some combination of the two, she was not sure. She could hear chairs being pushed away and voices beginning to speak, but they all sounded far away before fading out completely. _Fate does indeed work in mysterious ways._ This was one of the last coherent thoughts that ran through her mind before everything went black. For the first time in her life, she collapsed.

** I also promise there will be more interaction next chapter! (:**

**Translations: **

**bâtard- bastard**


	11. Chapter 10 Part Two

** Sooo I updated this thing again finally! I would have had it up yesterday, but I went to go see Iron Man 3 and after that I kind of forgot about it :P (Shame on me I know) It took me a little bit to edit and revise this chapter so it may not be the best! If its a little cheesy I apologize but I tried! As usual thanks to everyone out there who had read and reviewed it means a lottt and is helpful! Hope you enjoy! (:**

Combeffere had long since finished speaking, and once more Enjolras had found himself standing, about to go over plans that he had just laid out in front of him, when the door had burst open rather unceremoniously. The abrupt noise had caused everyone, including himself, to stop and turn. Two figures stood in the doorway and it did not take him long to see that one of them was Éponine. At first he was confused and for the life of him, could not imagine what she was doing there. Every so often she would sneak in and fetch Marius and they would leave together, but she had never before appeared before all of them so blatantly. But it soon quickly dawned on him from the look on her face, that something was wrong.

His eyes fell upon the second figure standing closely behind Éponine. It was Mariélle. _What was she doing here?_ He asked himself this question, as a whirlwind of other thoughts ran through his mind, but they all soon quickly disappeared. She was hurt. By that time it was nearly too late, as his eyes finally processed what he was seeing. As the color drained from her face, she smiled weakly at him in recognition. Seconds later she slumped to the floor.

Almost instantly, chairs were pushed away and the voices of the others grew loud as they rushed to the doorway, himself included. Éponine was already down beside her, shaking her arm in an attempt to revive her. He managed to push past the others, until he too, was by her side. He quickly knelt and soon saw what had been done to her. The right half of her face was bruised a dark purple and rivulets of crimson ran from small cuts.

_ Rage._ For a moment, it was the only emotion he could feel, and briefly all he could see was red. Who had done this to her and why?

"'Ponine, what happened?" The voice of Marius brought him out of whatever trance he had fallen into and taking a deep breath he managed to temporarily compose himself.

For perhaps the first time, Éponine ignored Pontmercy. Her attention was still focused on the unconscious girl in front of her.

"Enjolras isn't this the mademoiselle from the other day? Your friend, I mean?" It took him a moment to realize that Courfeyrac was by his side, but turning his head he nodded gravely. Looking up, he saw that the others were confused and he assumed that Courfeyrac had not told them anything. But now was not the time for introductions.

He looked back down at Mariélle, before turning and finding the face of Combeferre. "Is there somewhere else she can be put for now?" To everyone else his question may have sounded brash and rude, but in honesty it was not meant that way at all. "I mean is there somewhere more comfortable…?" He chose his words carefully this time and stared up at his friend for an answer.

"Uh…yes. I mean yes. This way." Combeferre started to move, and the other young men quickly parted to clear the way.

Wordlessly, Enjolras quickly lifted the seemingly lifeless girl off of the ground before following Combeffere. As he carried her, he noted how light she felt and wondered when the last time she had had a decent meal was. She remained almost unmoving in his arms and the side of her face that was not battered, appeared so pale that for a moment he might have mistaken her for dead. The thought of it temporarily alarmed him and his arms for that instant, became more possessive in their hold around her. But he quickly regained himself and with his resolve strengthened, followed Combeffere through a door into a small room, which he assumed served as sleeping quarters. There was a wardrobe in one corner and a simple wooden chair next to a small bed in the other, covered in books which were soon quickly removed so that Mariélle could be placed upon it. Reluctantly, he set her down carefully and saw that she still had not stirred. Combeffere then left, quietly shutting the door behind him, in an attempt to give them some privacy.

Éponine had followed close behind him, as well as someone else. Looking, he saw it was Joly. As usual the countenance of his friend was of a nervous demeanor, and in his hands he fidgeted with the medical bag, that although was the source of many jokes, he insisted be brought with him everywhere in the events of an emergency. Until tonight, Enjolras did not realize how much he appreciated it.

"I am going to make sure she is alright and see if she has any internal injuries." The voice of his friend was serious and lacked any of the anxiety that his body physically displayed. He then took long strides over to Mariélle, before removing his coat and adjusting his sleeves. Opening his bag, he rummaged through it before one by one, pulling out small bottles of disinfectant and bandages. Afterwards a transformation of sorts occurred. The look of unease disappeared from his face completely and was replaced with an air of confidence, and the hands that were seconds ago restless, became steady. As he became immersed in his work, Joly achieved a sort of calmness that Enjolras had only seen when he was around Musichetta or Lesgle.

"Do not worry, she will be alright." Éponine spoke to him for the first time, directly and her voice was soft, but still did not completely rid him of the concern and anger that coursed through him.

"Please tell me what happened." For the first time in minutes he spoke and looked at the girl next to him for an explanation.

For the next five minutes she relayed to him everything that had transpired and what she had seen and done. Once she had finished, the anger he had felt returned stronger and had turned in itself, into a blinding fury. At the same time he also felt sickened and disgusted. It took every fiber of his being to not go running off into the streets, to go search for who had done this to her and kill the man himself. No, whoever had done this was not even a man. No word foul enough could come close to describing what he was. Violence towards women was something that he could never tolerate. Every day on the street, he saw the faces of those women who had no doubt been beaten by drunken husbands or fathers, and he felt the same anger that he did now.

"It is a shame that we had to meet again under such circumstances." Éponine finished speaking and turned her gaze to where Joly was now examining Mariélle.

"Do you know who did this to her?" He found himself asking after a moment of silence.

"I do not know his name, but I have seen him perhaps once or twice before. He frequents the taverns and brothels that I know for sure. I have also heard stories about him and his companions and what they have done to some of the girls," her voice grew quieter and she shifted her eyes to the floor, "trust me, monsieur you do not want to hear what they have done."

Before he could speak again, Joly turned and made his way back towards them with a serious yet slightly relieved expression.

"She is going to recover. Nothing is broken, but she will be in pain for the next few days and I suggest that she remain indoors for that time. Right now, I suspect that she is in shock but she should awaken at any time." With that said he wandered back to her bedside and began collecting the items he had used and put them back into his medical bag.

"I did not know where else to take her, I figured this would be the safest place and I assumed that you perhaps knew one another already, but if not I am sorry if I caused any trouble." Éponine spoke to him once more.

"Do not apologize, what you did was right. In fact you most likely saved her life and for that I thank you." He meant every word that he spoke and in return she gave him a faint smile.

"I must leave now, I was out looking for my brother to give him some money," She referred to Gavroche as she made her way to the door, "If I stop by tomorrow, will you tell me how she fares?"

"Yes I will and once more thank you." She gave a small nod in return after he spoke, before quietly exiting the room. As Joly finished gathering up his supplies, Enjolras sat down in the chair beside the bed and looked down at the still unconscious girl. The small lacerations on her face no longer bled and had been cleaned and slight color had returned to her face. She no longer appeared to be near death, but only perhaps sleeping, her breathing soft and her body more relaxed. He offered words of thanks to Joly before he left the room with his coat and bag in hand, who in return hastily responded, his nervousness once more returning as he left.

The rage he felt disappeared momentarily as he stared down at her and realized that she was going to be alright. Especially the moment when she began to stir.

Mariélle felt like she was lying on something very soft. A bed perhaps, which she thought was strange since she always slept on the floor. As she grew more aware of her surroundings, everything that had occurred came rushing back to her and she remembered where she was. Almost instantly her eyes fluttered open and she sat right up, regretting it when a stab of pain shot through her head. Momentarily blinded, she gently rubbed at her eyes slowly until her vision once more returned. Looking around her she saw that she was in a small room with dim lighting that was provided by a few candles lit here and there. At first it gave the room a rather eerie effect, as the flames of the candles flickered, providing strange shadows upon the walls, but she decided it was mostly her mind playing tricks on her and soon the feeling left her all together.

"Do not try moving so fast."

She nearly jumped at the sound of the voice, but turning to her side she saw that it was only Enjolras. The erratic beating of her heart slowed and she took a deep breath. His expression, as usual, betrayed nothing, she thought she could detect hints of concern but was not certain.

"How are you feeling?" He asked as he slowly stood up from the chair he had been sitting in, and moved towards the center of the room with his back towards her. It appeared that he was staring out a small window overlooking the street.

She gently touched the right side of her face with her hands and winced. She no longer had the taste of blood in her mouth, but was could tell that there was bruising and slight swelling. But in regards to how she had felt earlier, she wasn't in as much pain.

"I am alright; I have felt worse than this before." She tried to speak in a reassuring tone, and weakly smiled, remembering the time she had fallen out of a tree that her mother had warned her not to climb. But she had climbed it anyway after a challenge was given to her by one of the boys on her street that she had wanted to prove wrong, and as a result she fell and had broken her wrist and ankle.

The smile soon vanished when Enjolras turned and she saw that his expression was cold. It even appeared almost dangerous. In a way it intimidated her because it was a look that she had never seen on him before. "I am alright, I swear." She spoke again, but this time the reassurance in her voice was joined with confusion.

In three strides he stood in front of her, towering over her in fact. It was then that she could finally see the anger and lividness in his eyes.

"Who did this to you?" She had expected him to yell or shout, but his voice was quiet.

She did not answer at first, simply because she did not know how to. He did not know Adrien or what he was capable of, something that she herself did not know until this very night. She did not answer she supposed, because she wanted to forget that it had happened or what he had nearly done to her, even in her mind she knew it was not rational to do so.

"It does not matter, I am fine. I really should be getting home, Amélie has been waiting and she is probably frightened by now." She remembered the little girl who no doubt was wondering where she was and she began to stand, but since he was standing right in front of her and was not moving, she was forced to sit back down.

"No. Tell me who it was." He asked again, he was still quiet but his voice was more urgent and she could see the rage plainly in his eyes now.

"It does not matter," she began to speak once more, "because there is nothing that can be done about it. That is the truth of it. If I ever go near him again he would have me arrested." Even though her voice was calm, she felt tears brimming in her eyes, but with the back of her hand quickly brushed them away before he could see them. "I am alright though and he did nothing else to me. That I owe to Éponine and he got what he deserved." Once she spoke, it felt like a weight had been lifted off of her chest, not only could she breathe easier, but she felt better.

Slowly, he sat down next to her with an almost defeated look. Something twisted inside of her and it pained her to see him look that way.

"He deserves much more than that." This was all he said, and looking down Mariélle saw that his fists were clenched.

Silently, she placed her hand on his forearm. At first he started, but then he relaxed and his hands soon became unclenched and rested flat on the mattress beside him. "Things happen and sometimes we cannot explain why they happen, but everything will be alright." She repeated the old saying her mother had often spoken to comfort her father when he could not find work or was in a depression, because it felt fitting to say.

She heard him take a deep breath, before turning to look at her. She saw that most of the anger had left him and he appeared much calmer. For a moment they stared at one another quietly, in the close proximity that they were both aware of.

As if remembering himself, he quickly looked away with his face, now slightly reddened. Sliding his arm from underneath her hand, he then stood. Looking down, she took it as a sign that she should probably leave.

"Amélie is waiting. I should be on my way." She took her time to stand so as not to become lightheaded again and found her shawl that Éponine must have set beside her.

"You are not well enough to leave yet." He said rather suddenly and gave her a disapproving look.

"I do not have a choice. I cannot leave my sister alone, as you are aware of." She countered as she wrapped her shawl around her shoulders and made her way to the door.

"Then you are not going out there alone." He followed her, and as they left the room she swore she could hear him mutter the word "Stubborn."


	12. Chapter 11

**Well I'm finally back after a long, long hiatus and I apologize! School is out and I'm done with all the major tests and finished with a play that I was in and that was really time consuming :P I finally managed to get this chapter up and I promise updates will be much more frequent! Thank you to all of you who have stuck with this story and who have reviewed, followed and favorited! It truly means a lot and I am really grateful (: This chapter may be a little rusty and for that I apologize as well, but any crticisms are welcomed and appreciated! As usual hope 'ya enjoy!**

The room that half an hour ago had been full was now almost empty. Combeffere, Jehan and Courfeyrac were the only ones that remained, and when Mariélle and Enjolras entered the room, they stood up quickly. Mariélle felt her face redden as the three stared at her with curious expressions. Enjolras temporarily strayed from her side and made his way over to them.

"The others left about a quarter of an hour ago." She recognized Courfeyrac as he spoke; he glanced her way and smiled, but the rest of his face betrayed concern.

She felt embarrassed and disliked the looks of pity and concern that were directed towards her. She knew they were given with the best of intentions, but still they made her feel uncomfortable. With stiff arms, she slowly raised her shawl until it rested over her hair before adjusting it so that it covered the side of her face that she did not wish to be seen by others.

"Very well, we can meet again tomorrow night. We should all try to rest for the time being." Enjolras replied. It was then that Mariélle really saw how exhausted he appeared. He pinched the bridge of his nose and stood for a moment with closed eyes. When he opened them again, she saw the dark circles beneath them and wondered if he had slept at all in recent days. Yet despite that, his eyes appeared as alert as ever and he still looked like he could be ready to not only face a challenge, but win one as well.

"Is she alright?" The man who stood next to Courfeyrac was assessing her carefully and had a slight frown about his lips. Enjolras then addressed him as Jehan, and moved closer to him, still speaking in a low voice that Mariélle strained to hear. After a few moments the other young man, with his eyes still trained on her, nodded as if in agreement and that was the end of it.

Enjolras made his way back to her and motioned his head towards the door as his signal that it was time to leave. Following him, she turned with her head once more at the three students that still remained standing as if frozen, before stepping out the door.

"Combeffere, thank you." Enjolras held open the door and after speaking, nodded his head, before closing it softly behind him. Mariélle then proceeded to follow him down the hallway, relieved that she could finally return home and that she would perhaps never have to see Adrien again. Little did she know how wrong she was.

There was a full moon in the sky above and it helped illuminate the seemingly empty streets ahead of them. Mariélle couldn't control her reactions to the noises in the shadows caused by the dark figures that lurked within them. On the outside she maintained her composure, but on the inside she wanted to scream. Now that she thought about it, she was grateful for Enjolras' company and even felt safer and was glad that she was not out alone. But at the same time, she was doing her best to prove that if necessary, she would be fine on her own and could face obstacles without assistance. She liked to think of herself as independent, especially after being without a father for nearly two years. Instead of having one, she had to simply take his place, not just for her own good, but for her sister's as well.

Even though she was walking and occasionally speaking a few words to Enjolras, by no means was she not in pain. Her back and her ribs still ached especially, and at times she had to bite her lip to keep from uttering a sound of pain. It was those moments when she could feel his eyes on her, and it was those moments when she smiled as much as she could in an attempt to dissuade him that there was not anything wrong. She knew he had much on his mind already and she did not wish to be the cause of anymore thoughts to trouble him.

A sharp pain that radiated specifically in her lower back nearly caused her to stop for a moment in the middle of the street. But doing her best, she turned to him before he had the chance to inquire about her and spoke the first thought that came to mind. Well, as it happened, it had already crossed her mind several times that evening.

"You look like you have not slept in days." She spoke quickly as the pain disappeared and she began walking again, but soon stopped once more when she saw that he was not following.

From his expression, she knew she had caught him off-guard, but after a brief pause of silence he replied.

"That is because I have not. There is much that needs to be accomplished and it takes time to for everything to be put in place and set up into motion." His tone was serious as usual, and she knew that he had put a lot of thought into what he was telling her. For someone who was only perhaps a handful of years older than herself, it must have felt like he had the weight of the entire world on his shoulders. He certainly looked as if he did. Although his appearance was youthful and supervital, it was truly his eyes that gave away his true age. He had the eyes of a man who had been on Earth for decades, perhaps even centuries. He had the eyes of a man who had witnessed much and who was knowledgeable in the ways of the world and its inhabitants, and who perhaps even knew its greatest mysteries. In a way it astounded her when she thought about it, but at the same time it was also very clear to her and made perfect sense.

"I understand." She nodded her head as she spoke, not only answering his question but the many that had traversed her mind in those few moments, "But is it ever overwhelming?" She questioned, finding herself truly curious as to how he would respond.

"At times, but it is all for the greater good." This time he did not hesitate to answer and from that she knew it was a phrase he had told others, including himself many times. His long strides soon passed her and she did not ask him anymore about it.

_All for the greater good._ The phrase that Enjolras had used for so long rang continually in his ears like an echo. Mariélle's questions had begun to unnerve him and he was relieved that she had asked no more. He would never admit to anyone that the few precious hours of sleep he attained each night were interrupted not just by dreams of roaring cannons and gunfire, but by _her._ He had never felt as perplexed in his entire life as he had been these past few weeks. More than anything he hated it and wished for the days when his mind would be clear and he could focus solely on the task at hand. He kept assuring himself that none of this was of his doing and that if anyone was at fault it would be her. But these accusations he knew were ridiculous and could not justify anything. He was at war with himself.

Glancing to his side, he saw that she was still keeping up with his pace and it appeared that she was still alright. He made sure to keep at a distance from her, for their close proximity when they had still been in Combeferre's apartment had made him uneasy and wary for reasons unknown. Despite his caution and apprehensiveness, he was thankful that she was going to be alright and he made sure to watch her closely for signs that something else could be wrong. But she betrayed nothing and whenever he looked at her questioningly she would smile quickly in assurance or say a few words in an attempt to start a conversation.

They began to approach a street, which though at first appeared completely devoid of human activity, was really not, so. Towards the center of the street, two figures, appearing to be men, were dimly outlined by the streetlamp they stood under. He at first thought nothing of it, but as they approached, he looked over at Mariélle and saw that the color from her face had drained completely, just as it had before she had collapsed. Before he had the chance to say a word, she clutched the sleeve of his shirt and quickly began to lead him towards the edge of the street. Before he could even protest, she had more or less pulled him after her into the small alleyway between two establishments. There was barely enough room for him, let alone her, and once more his physical space felt breached in the confined space, as he soon faced her. Whether she was aware of it or not, her and still gripped his wrist and he swore he could feel her pulse racing.

He followed her line of sight to the two men that still remained in the middle of the street. Once his eyes adjusted to the opaque darkness he saw that one of the men was a _gendarme_ apparently scrawling hastily into a small pocketbook as the other man spoke to him in an obviously agitated tone. As he continued to focus, the other man looked familiar and he soon recognized him as the foolish young dandy from the other day that they had passed outside of the dress shop. On closer inspection, he saw crimson dripping down the man's face. Almost as if caused by…

It did not take him long to piece together what Éponine had told him and what had happened to Mariélle, and he soon felt his free hand clench tightly at his side. But he dared not move, especially if it would give Mariélle away. She remained still at his side, almost statue like, with one hand covering her mouth, whether to stop from crying out or to help slow her breathing, he did not know.

A few more moments passed in tense silence before the gendarme spoke audibly enough to be heard from where they were hidden.

"Monsieur we will see what can be done, but you have not given us enough to create a proper case. Since you cannot tell us who attacked you, I am afraid that we cannot be of much service to you. In the meantime, I advise you return to your residence. Good night monsieur." Tipping his hat, he then continued off in the opposite direction, leaving the aggravated young man alone in the street.

He stood there for only a second more before stomping his foot like a child and launching into a torrent of curses, starting on his way past them.

Once more, Enjolras could only feel rage course through him and before he could comprehend what he was about to do, he began to take a step. But Mariélle pulled him back before he could object. The young man paused in the street, his gaze directed their way and Mariélle backed further into the shadows tugging him along as well, until her back rested against the alley wall and he was less than a foot away from her. For nearly a minute, not a sound was made and he swore that she held her breath for the duration of time, her eyes closed tightly as well. Far away, the sound of raucous laughter soon broke the silence and turning his head, the fop continued walking.

As his footsteps echoed further away, Enjolras stared down at Mariélle whose eyes still remained shut forcefully; afraid perchance if she opened them, he would come back. Her face was less than a few inches away from his chest and he was mindful that if he took one more step all space between them would be closed. He felt heat rush to his face and suddenly the space felt more confined than it actually was. No matter how much he willed against it, that one step was tempting. Before any more of those thoughts could race through his mind, her eyes shot open and naturally he took a step back before turning and peering out into the street that was once more deserted.

"He is gone." His voice was constricted at first and the words had nearly stuck in his throat.

Cautiously, she followed closely and once seeing that he was being truthful, all traces of distress left her and she breathed freely. Color soon returned to her appearance, but she looked as if she were contemplating something that he did not completely understand. Nor did he ever know what it was that she was considering because for she did not speak another word to him that night about what had happened. She chatted about anything but what had happened; effectively avoiding the topic and he decided he would not press her about it. When they arrived outside of her door, she simply nodded at him and offered a word of thanks before stepping inside. This left him puzzled for the remainder of the night, as he returned to his own lodgings. He was soon left feeling more weary and fatigued than he had been earlier. But that night, for the first time in a long time, he slept peacefully, unaware in those hours of the trials to be faced in the days to come.

**Translation! (:**

**_gendarme_- An armed police officer.  
**


	13. Chapter 12

** Heyyyy! (: I know its been a long time since I last updated but for the past 3 weeks I've been pretty busy! It took me a while to finish this chapter as well, but it is finally done! I have also figured out the direction I want this story to go in, so it should also be much easier to complete! Thank you to everyone who has stuck with this story and for those who have just stumbled upon it. Your reviews, favorites and those who follow this mean a lot and I always appreciate criticisms and reviews! It helps me a lot! Without further ado here is chapter 12!  
**

It had been nearly two days since she had had that fateful encounter with Adrien. Two days not daring to travel into the outside world, fearing what would happen if she even set one foot out onto the street. Two days since she had last seen Enjolras who had acted strangely when he had left her. Two days since she returned home in the dead of night, almost instantly being confronted by Amélie who, even though feverish, was still a force to reckon with. When the girl had asked her why she was walking so strangely, she had simply lied and said that she had fallen at the shop. Due to the darkness, Amélie had not seen the bruises on her face and was quickly sated. Yet, the next morning she still recalled how the girl had given a startled cry when the morning light revealed what she had tried to keep hidden. Even then she kept to her story and claimed that she had fallen, even though she could see that Amélie clearly had suspicions. But she had asked nothing more about it, as if she could sense that Mariélle did not wish to tell her the truth. And that was the end of it.

For two days she kept inside of the small room they shared, claiming that Madame had been kind and had given her a few days to recuperate. At first, Mariélle did not know how much longer she could keep up the charade, but soon that became the least of her worries. The night before, Amélie was quieter than usual and the fever that had taken hold of her a few days before had yet to relinquish her from its grasp. Even more distressing was the fact that she would not eat anything that was offered to her.

"I am not hungry, but I am alright." This was all the little girl would say with a smile that was lacking her usual enthusiasm, but was done in an attempt to calm Mariélle's fears.

Later that same night, Amélie's coughing returned and this time it went on for hours, at times leaving her out of breath. It wasn't until the early hours of the morning that she had fallen asleep out of pure exhaustion. In the morning, dark spots of crimson stained her mouth and pillow. Instead of being afraid, Amélie was resigned about the matter. Whatever healthy pallor she had maintained before was gone that morning. Her appearance was pale, almost as pale as the night shift that hung loosely around her frail shoulders, and the circles underneath her eyes, were deepest and dark.

There had always been a certain glow about Amélie that she had possessed since the time she had been born. But that glow which represented her vivacity and childish animation was hardly noticeable now, almost as if it had faded. The brilliant and exuberant life force that was her sister was beginning to burn out. The time was coming whether Mariélle wished to acknowledge it or not. The horrible feeling that she could do nothing to stop it was beginning to eat away at her mind. Mixed with that feeling of sheer hopelessness was the feeling of anger.

_This isn't fair she is just a child. A child who hasn't had a chance to live out her life._ At night these thoughts ran through Mariélle's head. Long ago she had given up praying. Now she felt like laying blame to God, if he even existed. In her heart she knew her mother would be ashamed of her if she even knew these thoughts of hers existed, and briefly she felt ashamed of herself as well. But nonetheless the thoughts returned and with every night her sister did not grow better, those thoughts became more vehement._ She deserved the chance to experience happiness and love, but all she has ever known is disappointment and loss. It is not fair. She has never done anything wrong, she has never stolen, or lied, or have had a cruel thought about anyone. If anyone should be punished it should be me, for I have done all of those things. It is not fair._ Some nights as those thoughts played again and again in her head, her anger would give way and she would feel the burning tears of shame and helplessness threaten to give way, but she would refuse to let them fall.

At this moment Amélie had fallen into another deep sleep, but her breathing was ragged and labored. Beads of sweat were present on her forehead which was hot to the touch, as Mariélle smoothed back the younger girl's hair. This morning she had once more refused food and Mariélle had to nearly force her to drink from the small cup of water she had procured. As the day had progressed, she had grown worse. A short time ago she had become almost delirious, asking when their papa would return home from work in the city and if he would bring her that doll she had been promised. The same doll he had sold for no doubt a few sous a short time before he had left them. Momentarily the despise she felt for him returned as strong as it had ever been. _Would he even come back if he knew she was near death?_

Mariélle walked over to the pile of folded bedding she used for herself at night and selected the warmest blanket out of them all, before returning to Amélie's side. Despite her fever, she was still shivering and Mariélle quickly placed the extra blanket over her in an attempt to keep her warm. All of the medicines and herbs for special teas were gone. Not as if they had helped Amélie very much at all, but at times they would cease her coughs and whatever other sufferings that bothered her. Nightfall was growing nearer and she rejected the idea of going to the druggist and begging for something that would help, promising that she would pay him back when she had the money. He for the most part was a generous man who reminded her of the grandfather that she had only met once and she was certain that he would be willing to help. But he had probably returned home by now and had closed his shop. She found herself wandering over to the window and staring out contemplatively. A few people walked by here and there, eyes downcast so as to not draw any attention to themselves from potential thieves. Exhausted herself, she rubbed gently at her eyes and tried not to dwell on the hopelessness of it all. The next time she looked up, she saw the flash of what seemed to be a red coat dart by and before she could control herself she ran towards the door, throwing it open in haste and nearly tripping over herself as she ran into the street. But it was gone. Disappointment quickly replaced the burst of excitement, and she realized she was out in the street alone. For a second longer she stood there, a desperate part of herself wishing it would come back. Wishing it was _him._ Wishing _he _was there.

Feeling doleful she slowly turned and made her way back inside. She did not know why she even wished such things. She respected him and enjoyed his company, but she should not expect him to feel the same and felt foolish for even thinking so. He was planning great things and she did not have the right to interfere with them. In fact she felt almost mortified for anything else she felt towards him. For those feelings were there even if she did not know precisely what they meant, but she could be certain that he did not share them and she quickly put such thoughts out of her head. In a way she wondered if he resented her.

As she closed the door behind her, a sudden sense of dread grew in the pit of her stomach. Something was not right. Instantly she rushed to Amélie's bedside. The girl was lying almost perfectly still and her breathing was no longer ragged. At first Mariélle thought she was not even breathing at all and for a moment her heart stopped. But then she saw the weak rise and fall of her sister's chest and life went back into motion.

"Amélie," she began to shake her shoulder, "Amélie wake. You need to eat." But there was no response and her eyes remained closed.

Panic began to set in and Mariélle shook her harder, "Amélie wake up. Amélie!" There was still no change and as realization came to her, she sank slowly to her knees on the floor.

The image of the cart and the sobbing woman with the dead child returned to her mind and she fought the urge to cry out. _No. No. No. _She covered her mouth with a trembling hand and shut her eyes tightly, willing it to disappear. Her resolve grew again and she stood up straight. There had to be something she could do. Something could be done, she just had to figure out what. Then she remembered.

_I have a friend who fancies himself a physician._ She ran to the fireplace and picked up her papa's old cap off of the mantle. _If you ever need anything, please come find me and I will get him for you._ She rapidly pulled on the old coat and trousers that had remained untouched for nearly a month; the dress she had been wearing lay discarded on the floor a few feet away. She knew what had to be done and going to Enjolras was the only option left. Maybe there was something that his friend could do, she was almost certain that he had even helped her when she had been hurt. If he required payment she would give him the small amount of money she had left. As she tucked the remaining gold strands of her hair into the cap a new sense of determination took over and remained with her as she hurried along the streets, not daring to stop to catch her breath. She did not have time to do so.

_Veuillez __laisser __encore dans __ce monde __quand je reviendrai__._For the first time in months she allowed herself to pray.

A strange feeling had been with him for a good portion of the night. Enjolras could not name specifically what it was but it had remained with him for hours. Their meeting had ended a few minutes ago and he found himself staring at a blank piece of parchment. He could not come up with the words he wanted to transcribe and soon found himself resorting to staring at the other reveries that were happening around him. It no longer bothered him as it had a week or so ago. _Let them enjoy themselves while they can._ He knew what was coming and he knew it would happen soon. Whether it be today or tomorrow or the day after, it would arrive quickly.

It had been two days since he had last saw Mariélle and he resisted the urge to go and see her. It was better if he did not. The day after what had happened, he found himself explaining who she was to the other men. He told them practically everything, leaving out certain details he found unnecessary or too personal. _Reaching out a shaking hand she placed it on the opened collar of his shirt and slowly began to trail it down his chest… Her face was less than a few inches away from his chest and he was mindful that if he took one more step all space between them would be closed. _He closed his eyes and placed his hands on either side of his head. He told them not because he wanted to tell, but because he felt obligated to. Afterwards the subject was not mentioned and they appeared satisfied with his answer. But at certain times he found the way Marius or Grantaire stared at him, somewhat unnerving. He could not explain why, but he felt like they sensed something. Shaking his head, he once more opened his eyes. He could not let paranoia get the better of him. He was certain it was all in his mind.

In fact when he glanced at them, they paid him no mind, each rooted in what they were doing. Marius staring out the window with an almost melancholy expression, looking lost. Grantaire with a barmaid in his lap, both sharing a bottle of wine that every so often was picked up from the table in front of them. He decided to continue with what he had attempted to do in the first place, staring at the blank page in front of him. Another hour or so passed, and still nothing was written down and the quill beside him remained untouched by ink. He thought about leaving and returning home, but something stopped him before he could. He saw someone else enter the café. Another young man. No one else paid any mind to who it was, and he decided neither should he, but something about the stranger was disconcerting, he would even say almost familiar. The stranger remained near the entrance and was looking around nearly frantically. Enjolras found himself curious and stood up, slowly walking towards the front of the café. As he drew closer, he began to see why the stranger was familiar. He had seen that same cap before. As well as the old coat that was very ill-fitting on the slender frame beneath it. He knew who it was before _her_ face finally met his. Forgetting himself, he covered the remaining distance between them within a few strides, and grabbing her arm he pulled her outside.

** Translation Time! (:**

**_Veuillez __laisser __encore dans __ce monde __quand je reviendrai__.-Please let her still be in this world when I return._**


End file.
